Artemis Fowl, Black Holes and Heroes
by Kyrial Halcoryn
Summary: Everything that we do has a knock-on effect, even if you can't see it. Set in S3 of the Heroes verse, post TTP for Artemis Fowl, post S4 Doctor, post S3 Torchwood, as well as Pokemon and House. Please read and review! :D Chapter 16 up now!
1. Knockon effect

This is the resubmission of the story under the same name that was in the Artemis Fowl section.  
It got moved mainly because muses kept urging me to make it a _bigger_ crossover. Damn muses.  
Unfortunately, I can't put it under the AF, DrWho _and_ Heroes sections.

So this is now a Artemis Fowl, Heroes, Doctor Who, Torchwood, House M.D. and sorta Pokemon crossover  
(although I'm _not _introducing all characters at once, thank god, that would be a nightmare).  
Enjoy, review, flame, laugh, whatever, and if you want me to include your favourite character from one of those domains (apart from Pokemon),  
tell me, I'll do my best!

This is not primarily a romance fanfiction, but there will be some pairings. Right now, it looks like it'll probably be:  
11/Wilson, Little Old Lady/Jack, Jack/Ianto, Jack/Holly, Jack/Stephen, Jack/11, Jack/Pikachu, Jack/Wilson, Jack/House  
Jack/Peter, Jack/Claire, Claire/Artemis, Holly/Artemis, Mohinder/Mohinder's Voice, Mohinder/Maya, Matt/Daphne, Gabriel/Elle  
...and Jack's hitting on practically _everyone_. No matter what gender, species or age. Be afraid. Be very afraid...  
Okay, so you can probably omit Jack/Pikachu. But the rest of them are the likely pairings at this moment.  
(Maybe it's just me, but Peter _does_ seem to have really bad luck with girlfriends tbh, so he gets left out apart from the fact that Jack hits on him.) There will probably be others as well.

Pikachu is not Ash Ketchum's Pikachu.

And just in case you didn't guess, I don't own any of the above, apart from my own Pokemon on Emerald which don't really count and Rachel. The only characters in this story I own are the OCs (like Rachel). So let's hear it for the lil' ol' lady that only gets mentioned in passing too! Woo!

* * *

"_Life is never quite what we expect it to be. We reach beyond ourselves, achieving things that we once thought were far beyond us, and in so doing, progress; sometimes backwards, sometimes forwards. Yet the paths we take are neither fully predestined nor chosen by ourselves, and no-one can see the full end of the road we go down until it is too late to fully prevent it. But if so, do the choices that we make really matter? And is it fully possible to change the future after it has been revealed to us?"_

* * *

Artemis Fowl II was bored. After the "incident" with Opal Koboi, his mother had recovered mostly from Opal's possession of her body, although she still retained all of the memories the deranged pixie had left her. Naturally, this had led to an awkward explanation of _all_ of Artemis's more supernatural exploits since his father's disappearance in the Arctic.

"_How could you, Arty? How could you kidnap a sentient creature?" Angeline asked, horrified._

_And I said; I don't know._

_But I do know. How could I not justify anything I did to get my father back? Almost killing off the last member of an entire species, kidnapping, theft… Aurum potestas est._

_And I used that power to get him back. I would have done much, much more for him then. I would do it all over again. Have I really changed?_

"Artemis?" His mother turned around. Since the conversation, she had resolved to get someone to keep a closer eye on her eldest and most troublesome son, even while on this spa holiday in New Jersey. After her artificial organ failure, Angeline had brought most of the family to the spa with her, after her husband had insisted that she have time to recover. Unfortunately, Artemis Senior had been busy with a pressing eco-conference; ever since he had been rescued from the Arctic, his priorities had shifted greatly, from money and crime to saving the planet and getting to know his family.

Artemis II's mouth lifted somewhat at the corners. If only his father knew how many interspecies wars he had prevented… he wondered what he would say.

"Artemis, are you all right? Are you getting sunstroke?" Angeline stopped and looked at him with some concern. The twins turned round in unison, licking Beckett's favourite espresso/treacle/banana ice-cream combination.

"Artemis simple-toon, he not like my secret sundae recipe," proclaimed Beckett, waving a hand at his older brother, while Myles shook his head at Artemis's foolishness.

"Perhaps it's because he's more sensible than you are in some respects," Angeline told the twins, smiling. "Generally, caffeine _is_ considered bad for small people. Especially young genii," she said, ruffling Myle's and Beckett's hair.

Artemis felt a lump form in his throat. _What would have happened had I been born into this family now?_ He followed his family back to the hotel, wondering about what might have been, fiddling with his ring. Holly. Would he still have met her?

He was too concerned with his thoughts to notice what was in front of him, until he dropped the fairy communicator in surprise and vanished.

Angeline turned round, noticing the lack of her son's footsteps behind her. And saw a red ring, with a coin-shaped disc on it, and a man, looking dumbstruck. Shaking, she picked it up. "What did you do with my son?" The man shook his head, and ran away before she could stop him. The only thing she heard him say was, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

The twins notice, and the ice-cream dripped onto the ground. "Mum?" asked Myles. "Has Artemis gone again?"

_He speaks as if it's perfectly normal._ _Perhaps it is normal_, she thought, _for Arty_.

"He'll… he'll be back soon," she said, staring at the ring. "He always is."

* * *

This is a different time; the relative past, to be precise.

In another universe, something, some_one_ snaps. Actually, to be more accurate, a human who is extremely pissed off with his neighbour. It's just a minor matter, but it gets out of hand. Even so, it should still have stayed a minor matter, something for cops to shake their heads over and wonder why the hell anyone would try to kill their neighbour over the matter of a _dog_. It's not even a special dog.

The dog in question makes a lot of noise at night. The neighbour to the owner is, naturally, quite annoyed by this. The dog vanishes mysteriously. The ex-owner, equally naturally, suspects the neighbour. A fight breaks out, some punches are launched, and someone ends up in hospital, and there's a trial for grievous bodily harm. Normally. Under other circumstances, perhaps.

Unfortunately, these are the circumstances that are:

The dog in question makes a lot of noise at night. The neighbour to the owner is, naturally, quite annoyed by this. The dog vanishes mysteriously. The ex-owner, equally naturally, suspects the neighbour. A fight breaks out, and both disappear. The police hears nothing more of it. But the story goes on.

The neighbour goes underground for quite a while, literally so. Eventually, he is released by accident, and looks for his family. People from the Company try to catch him again. They find him. He runs away and tries to kill himself, somewhat unconventionally.

An interesting fact about the universe is that there is thought to be a black hole at the centre of the Milky Way, as well as several other revolving galaxies. As a result, perhaps one day all matter will be consumed by these, Nature's non-portable Dysons. But it follows that all of this matter has to go somewhere.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Even if you can't see it. And everything that we do has repercussions.

* * *

Holly woke up to the insistent bleeping of her comms. She groaned, and rolled over on her couch. Falling asleep on the sofa while watching PPTV was _not_ a good idea. She hit the button on the device. Foaly's face appeared on the screen. "Holly? Holly, are you all right?"

"All the better for you waking me up, thank you _very _much," Holly groaned. "Watching reruns of Oprah Winfrey-style chat shows while drinking nettle smoothies. Bad idea." She got up. "Anyway, what are you calling me at this time for?"

Foaly sighed. "Nobody seems to appreciate the company of my genius these days. Especially not Mulch. You know, I almost miss those chats with Artemis Fowl," he proclaimed melodramatically.

"Why don't you marry him and get it over with. No, wait. You already _are_ married to Caballine."

"You're just envious because you _luuuurve_ Artemis. Go on, admit it. You spend so much time around Fowl Manor it's unbelievable," teased Foaly. "I've seen your flight records."

Holly refused to rise to the jibe, choosing instead to put on a fresh uniform out of sight of the comm's camera. "Did you just call me up to interrupt my sleep, or was there an actual reason?"

The centaur turned serious. "Anyway, to business. It's probably nothing, but I thought I should get it checked out anyway. Trouble's still pretty annoyed with your time travelling and Mud Boy kissing antics." Holly winced at the last. "Pretty simple, really. There's a sensor in New Jersey on the surface picking up some strange readings, so basically all you have to do is look at it. Nothing involving blasting things, wasting buildings or romancey thingies. Just for the record, by the way, where exactly is Artemis right now?"

"Going on a fascinating-sounding spa trip with his mother, although knowing him, he's probably in trouble. Again. For the…" She ticked off her fingers. "I think that makes about 352 times, if you include the number of times that Opal's tried to kill him, the troll, the goblins, Cudgeon… I lost track." Holly stopped. "Wait. Did you just say New Jersey?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh, d'Arvit." Holly speeded up getting dressed and ready, and looked at the camera with mismatched eyes. "What am I bet that Artemis is involved in this problem somehow or other?"

Foaly looked directly at the camera. "If he's in NJ, I'll bet half my pension." He groaned, and stuck out his lip. "What is it with that Mud Boy and trouble anyway?"

Holly grabbed her Neutrino. "I'll be over there for the briefing, but I'm leaving on the next flare when it comes along."

"Right, fine," said Foaly, distracted.

"Wait… his communicator's bleeping. I'd better answer."

* * *

_Please pick up. Please pick up._

* * *

The magical Kyrial writing fairy commands you to review. ----*


	2. Phone

_

* * *

_

_"On the journey of life, which is more important? The end to it and the purpose we fulfilled, or the journey itself upon which we ventured? The answer… or the question that we originally had?"_

_

* * *

_

_Please pick up. Please pick up._

"Hello? Artemis, is that you? What in the name of hells is happening over there?" Holly stopped. "Gods, Artemis, say something." All she could hear was breathing.

"He's gone," sobbed Angeline.

Holly unleashed a 4-second litany of Gnommish swear words, then calmed down. "What happened?" _D'Arvit. Did Artemis tell her about us? How much does she know?_ "Do you know where he went?"

Angeline shook her head. "No… he was behind me, and then… I turned round and there was a man there. And this ring. He…" She choked back dry sobs. "He always wore this ring, since before last time he vanished. I thought maybe it could help… Please."

Holly was still in a state of shock. "Where are you right now?"

"Back at the hotel. Hyatt, in Morristown. I shouldn't have dragged him along, it was all my fault…" The line fell silent.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," replied Holly. She sprinted out the door of her apartment and was gone in a second. _Artemis, where the hell have you got to?_

* * *

The rapid transfer and reassembly of one's atoms in a completely different universe is a somewhat euphoric experience. Unfortunately for Artemis, it also disorientates you quite a lot. As a result, he took a dizzy step, and fell over.

_The closest analogy to what just happened would probably be being put in a tumble drier. Where is this? _thought Artemis. He tried to get up, but gave up; his muscles still felt weak.

"…he doesn't trust me, or you. He won't ever really understand us, the way we are." A man speaking somewhere close.

"Sylar, shut up!" A girl this time. American, both of them.

"Claire, I'm sorry, but – " A car door slammed, and two more doors closed somewhat more sedately. Artemis managed to get up just in time to see a car pull away, as the occupants continued their argument within.

They hadn't seen him.

Artemis dusted himself down, and looked around for his mother and brothers. Not there. They weren't visible anywhere, so he reached for his mobile and pulled it out, about to phone his mother, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to see a chunky-looking man looming from the alleyway.

_Why is it, _he thought,_ that every time something like this happens when Butler isn't around, I always make a mental promise to buy a mini-gym for the mansion and never get round to it?_

"You look lost." The thuggish-looking man smiled. _You're coming with me. _"Are you lost? I can give you some directions if you want."

Artemis's lip curled slightly. "No, thank you." He turned to leave, but the hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backwards into the alleyway. _Oh, shit._

"Now, that _wasn't _very nice. All helpful, and he sneers at me!" The man leered at Artemis. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You look rich. Passport, phone, cash. Now," holding out a hand, "give it to me."

The boy fumbled in his pockets for his cash, and reluctantly passed over his phone. "It's encrypted. You won't be able to use it. And I flew the plane here, I don't have my passport."

The thug's eyebrows shot up. "No passport? An Irish rich kid in the US with no passport. That sounds ill_eee_gal to me, so you got two options here. One, gimme everything you got, and I know you're keeping something, so don't bother to hide it. Or two, I get all your stuff anyway." He leaned close to Artemis. _He has really bad teeth. He should see a dentist. His breath stinks._ "What's it gonna be, then?"

As an answer, Artemis turned, kicked the man in the... well... you know... and sprinted for the alley's end. _Faster._ The man yelled something at him and lumbered after Artemis, trying to chase him, but he had too much of a head start.

A second thug stepped out and knocked him unconscious with a baseball bat 6 metres short of the end, next to some garbage bins.

"Fancy phone," said the second thug, Artemis slung over his shoulder. "Are we ringing them? We could do with the extra cash."

"Yeah, we're ringing them," replied the first thug, wincing at the pain. "$250 each way sounds good to me in return for a kid." He flipped open Artemis's phone, and fiddled with it, growing annoyed as it refused to cooperate with him. "What the hell is an eternity code?"

"No idea. Try star hash to unlock it, that usually works on Nokias."

* * *

_Please pick up. Please. I need to talk to you._

Someone finally picked up the phone at the other end. "Yes?"

I almost laughed. I hadn't heard her voice for a while. It's probably just as well that way, though. She left; she was sensible. "It's me. You did give me your old phone, after all. What happened, in the end?"

Silence. Then, "I decided to… _reassess_ my priorities. Jack decided he needs someone to be a doctor there. I did do my training, after all," she said, with a touch of pride. I smiled at the words. It seemed almost ironic, really. Two doctors, talking. _C'est la vie, mais pas en rose._

"Anyway, I'm glad to hear you'll be all right."

"The other woman. The red-haired lady. Donna. She won't be?"

"No." That wound still hurts, a lot. _My fault._ "She's forgotten everything. I had to take away those memories; she would have died otherwise. I still don't know which would be worse, her funeral, or her looking at me without any recognition." My voice caught. "At any rate, I've seen her future. She'll be happy, and safe." _She gets married in a few years, too. A nice husband. She will be happy. But that won't stop me missing her.*_

"…what are you doing right now, then?" Martha sounds uncertain as to whether she wants the answer to the question.

"Nothing. I… just wanted to talk, really. I miss having human company, in a way." It's a lie. I do need company, but I am doing something.

I placed the package on the doorstep. Donna will be happy tomorrow morning at any rate; Christmas day, with a present from a mysterious stranger.

"Anyway, I'd better hang up. Why is it that aliens _always_ land on Christmas Day and cause problems?"

I smiled. "No idea. Perhaps they just love Santa Claus. Anyway, I'll talk to you later." The phone clicks as she slides hers shut. My smile fades quickly after.

It's tempting to stay and watch Donna's reaction, but I can't. If she sees me now, she might get entirely the wrong idea about me, or her mother might come out. _Which would be worse?_ I wondered. Probably Donna thinking that I'm stalking her, really. I made my way back to the TARDIS, and sat down on the steps, leaning against the rails.

Just as well, really, since she chose that particular moment to power into life. Without me doing anything. Unusual. I grabbed the railings and staggered over to the controls, pulling levers. She wouldn't respond.

I let go and sprinted over to the set of controls on the _other_ side, at which point the TARDIS did a 180° rotation and unceremoniously dumped me on what had, quite recently, been the ceiling.

Remind me to redecorate and get rid of all the extremely painful knobs on the walls some day soon, please.

* * *

_2 minutes later…_

I groaned. Fortunately, the TARDIS was the right way up. Unfortunately, I also had a new collection of bruises. I managed to lever myself off the floor, and stared at the display. From what I could see, it appeared to be Fort See, New Jersey, 2008-ish. A company card popped up on the screen. A logo of a split strand of DNA.

"Pinehearst?" I tapped in the company name and searched for it, narrowing down my results to biotech companies.

No match

"What do you mean, no match?"

It means that no company under those specifications exists

I put my head in my hands and sighed, calling up a location map of where this mysterious company's head office was.

Distance: Unknown, potentially 1km NNW

"What do you mean, you don't know how far away it is?!!"

No comment

Oh well. Might as well do this the old-fashioned way. I opened the door, and walked out into the sunshine of the good ol' US of A.

* * *

* All my thoughts listed here, as a general note, are the ones that actually have some importance here. I actually think about several things at the same timp, but putting in so many footnotes would be difficult. Also, it would be embarrassing listing absolutely _everything_ that passed through my mind, and not everything that went through my mind can be translated directly into English because the right words don't exist yet. -The Doctor

* * *


	3. Improbable

* * *

Artemis groggily returned to consciousness in the back of a dark, musty van with his hands and feet tied.

_Hardly the most comfortable vehicle in the world, _he thought. _The suspension must be broken. The last thing I remember was being knocked out, so I suppose… I've probably been kidnapped. Ransom._ He decided to listen in; perhaps he could find out more about where he was being taken.

"…yeah …yeah. Like you said, just a kid. What? No, no passport, no ID that I could find, just some cash and a phone I can't get to work. Shouldn't be any problem with missing-person reports. Foreign, too. Little Irish rich kid. What?" There was a pause. "No, I said I didn't find any ID, so he's probably not here legally anyway. So do you want him or not?..." The man on the phone twisted round in the passenger seat to look at Artemis, who closed his eyes hurriedly. "Dunno. That's alright?... Good. So that's $500? I gotta feed myself, man!... Right. Right, okay… I'm driving him over right now, boss. Thanks, boss."

He put the phone down and leered at Artemis, pinching his cheek. _Oh, the ignominy._ He allowed his eyelids to flutter and open, guessing there was probably no point faking that he was still asleep.

"You're a lucky kid, boy. You're gonna get yourself a new home. Be good on the way and I might give you a lollipop." The man ran his fingers over the baseball bat next to him. "You're not going to _mis_behave, hey?"

Artemis stared at the felt-covered ceiling of the van, and wished for the journey to be over as the man laughed and retreated back into his seat. Then he noticed something. Holly's communicator ring was missing, and he had no way of calling for help. _Mother. Someone must be looking for me._ And then, _I hate lollipops. _

_The only possible way this situation could possibly be any worse would be if Opal Koboi turned up again, started cackling evilly in my face and making general threats towards my family._

_What are the odds of that?_

* * *

In another universe, in a cell somewhere deep under the sea that did _not_ look anything like a pineapple, the evil pixie genius Opal Koboi felt that an opportunity had been missed. She punched the padded wall.

"Damn you, Artemis!!!!!!!" she screamed, with seven exclamation marks.

* * *

Holly stepped into Foaly's private lab. Ever since Foaly had been set up by Koboi for causing the goblin revolution, the security had been upped. He now had several new bug sweepers and a new layer of X-ray-proof insulatory material. The door slid open in front of her to reveal the centaur "Bad news," she panted. "Fowl vanished."

Foaly's jaw dropped. "You're not serious?" He swivelled his adapted chair around several times. "This isn't good."

Holly rolled her eyes. "You're telling me. Duh." She stopped to catch her breath. "I talked to Angeline. Artemis's mother. She told me."

Foaly was outraged. "You WHAT?!! You talked to his mother? For Frond's sake, she doesn't even know about us!"

"Hey, she was the one who rang _me_," said Holly, injured. "And for your information, she knew about us anyway thanks to Koboi possessing her. She had his communicator. Gods know how she knew how to use it. Artemis must have dropped it or something…" _Oh shoot. That's not good_, she thought. _I've never known him to lose anything by accident._

The centaur clambered out of his chair. "So you have no way of talking to him or finding out where he really is?"

"He has a mobile phone as well. I had the number written down somewhere…" She searched her pockets, then blushed when she realised her friend was staring at her. "What?" she said defensively.

"You have his mobile number," said Foaly disbelievingly.

"Hey, pony boy, that's none of your business." Holly continued to rummage.

"Oh my gods. His mobile number." Foaly started to snort, and then went into fully blown hysterics. "You really luuuuuurve him!"

Pissed off, she punched him in the shoulder. "Foaly, we have a situation here, in case you haven't noticed, idiot!" She pulled out a piece of paper. "Here it is. I assume you can patch into the mobile network to phone him?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Me? _Patch _into the human mobile network? Do you doubt my geniusity or something? Can a stinkworm – "

Holly stopped him before he went any further. "Enough with the graphic analogies, Foaly, all right? Everyone gets the picture, and this is a _teenage_ fanfiction, after all. The readers' minds aren't _entirely_ corrupted yet."

"What?" asked Foaly, confused. He rubbed his shoulder. "You didn't need to punch me that hard, by the way; that hurt."

"Er… nothing." She passed him the paper. "Zero seven two seven eight three six four seven, three six nine five."

"Done." Foaly sat back down. "Want a cup of coffee while you're here? I recently had a machine installed to help boost my caffeine intake," he said brightly.

"Where does the coffee come from?" asked Holly suspiciously.

Foaly winced. "Ahm… part of my sub-atomic recycling processor."

"You mean the toilet," she said flatly.

He squirmed. "Bluntly, yes, the atoms required _do_ come from faecal matter, but that's not the point. All completely restructured, and no side effects."

"No thank you. It sounds completely disgusting."

There was a bleeping noise, and he swivelled his chair round to face a screen and grab a pair of headsets, passing one to Holly. "In approximately 6 seconds, we should be talking to your _boyfriend_ again," smirked Foaly. Holly shushed him.

_We're sorry, the number you are trying to call is not available at this time. Please try again later. We're sorry, the number you are trying to call is not available at this time. Please try again later…_

The two of them stared at each other. There was silence for a few seconds. "What's the probability he turned his phone off or lost signal?" Holly said, at last.

"Round about nil," replied the centaur gloomily.

She made a face. "Right. I'll be going over to the hotel then. Losing your eldest son for the second time can't be easy. I feel sorry for Angeline."

* * *

Artemis was startled into sudden wakefulness by a crash and light in his eyes. _Ugh. Where is this?_

"Say hi to Pinehearst," said his captor, pulling him outside the van with a sharp tug. Artemis winced as the rope cut into his wrists, and looked around. _I appear to be in_ _an underground_ _car park. _He listened to the ceiling. _Make that deep underground; I can barely hear any cars. _The man dragged him over to a door, and pressed a button on an intercom. "Standing right here with the test subject. If you want to send someone down with the cash, that'll be fine."

In a second or so, there was a crackling response. "I'll be coming down in a few minutes myself. I want to see this test subject."

The thug stared at Artemis. "The boss must be pretty worried if he's coming down here himself. He usually just sends an Indian guy to talk to me." He slicked back his hair, and fiddled with his collar; barely noticeable signs that he was worried. But Artemis was hardly average.

_This man is highly concerned. I suppose any atypical meetings with his 'boss' would be bad; they seem to have a mainly financial relationship. Rather tenuous. Either that, or his boss is especially fearsome. I hope the former,_ he thought.

Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a grey-haired, tall, rather sombre-looking man. His eyes narrowed when he saw Artemis. "What exactly is this?" he said. "You mentioned that the test subject was young, not teenage. I expected an adult, perhaps, not a _child_."

Artemis stared coldly back at the man. _He hardly looks fearsome, after all, so I would assume that there must be something else._ "For your information, I am, in fact, fourteen. Hardly a _child_, by modern standards."

Both adults stared at him. The thug was the first to speak. "Do I still get the cash?" he asked.

"Very well," said the boss, still staring at Artemis. He passed over the cash, and fingered something in his pocket. _Probably a gun. Play along with him for now._ "Are you going to come quietly or not?"

"It's hardly as if I have a choice," replied Artemis. _My hands are tied here._ _Ironic, really._

The man smiled. "Some of our other volunteers took a little more… _persuading_." _I'll bet they did,_ thought Artemis, following him through the door. _But I will behave. For now._

* * *

I stared at the building. It looked like a typical American office building; glass and concrete, with the company logo I'd seen on the card outside it. Not especially unique, especially for America. So why here?

Only one way to find out. It hardly looked dangerous, after all.

The doors slid open soundlessly in front of me, and closed again.

* * *

Artemis stared around him. Concrete walls, with steel support and solid metal doors. This place was obviously high security. _A lot of planning has gone into this._

"As you can see, the chances of anyone being able to get out of here are minimal. So you might as well not bother," he continued.

Artemis rolled his eyes. "Spare me the theatrics and get on with it. What are you going to do with me? Ransom?"

The man looked startled. "Why would I wish to ransom you? A boy off the street? I have no need for money, after all. No, you will be the subject of a genetics experiment. Helping to save the world."

"By kidnapping children?"

He frowned, and stopped outside a door, which opened when he pressed his hand to a pad. _Fingerprint scanner._ "Try to make yourself at home here. Don't bother going to sleep," he called to Artemis, as the door shut.

He looked around. It was pretty basic; metal toilet and sink, and a bed with a rather thin-looking mattress.

_And to think I was complaining about the hotel last night,_ thought Artemis.

* * *


	4. Cat plus Curiosity equals:

* * *

_"In the search for contentment, sometimes we are too caught up in the material, what we have and do not have, and sometimes we are too detached from the physical, forgetting what is important to us; family, friends, people; all the things that are so fleeting and so precious, each treasured moment of life that we have. And by concerning ourselves with the present, we may change the future for the better."_

* * *

_Something is moving. And it can't be stopped, or changed.  
__It's too big for that. And it is inevitable._

* * *

The receptionist looked up briefly at the man, and smiled brilliantly. _Thank God for the bonus I spent on my teeth. Totally worth it for $5000. _"Are you a visitor? We don't often get people coming round here."

She stared at the ID. "I'm just here to write a quick article on the company, I got sent by the Times." The smile shrank by several teeth.

"Oh…" she stammered. "I'm not sure if I can do that, really… the work here is highly confidential." She looked up at the stranger beseechingly, aware of the fact that she hadn't re-dyed her hair this week. He was getting his glasses out, reading a leaflet.

"By the way, what kind of biotechnology research actually gets carried out by Pinehearst? It doesn't seem to say here," waving the leaflet at her.

"…I don't actually know, I'm not involved with any of the research part of this company. You'd be better off talking to my boss, really." _He won't be happy about this._ "Do you want to talk to him? He's in a meeting right now," she told him.

"That would be nice, yes," he said, and smiled back at her. She blinked, and suddenly her day seemed a lot better. She picked up the phone. "Arthur?... Yes, there's someone here who wants to talk to you. A reporter from the Times, apparently. All right." She put the phone down, and looked up. "He'll be with you, but he might take a while," she said.

He smiled again, and she felt her heart speed up. _What is it with me today?_ "That's okay," he said, sitting down. "I'll wait."

* * *

The boss walked down the corridor. _A reporter, eh? From the Times. _He lifted his mobile up, and entered a code. There was a single ring, then the person on the other end picked up. "Yes?"

He smiled. "We have a test subject for the research. Room 8. Prepare him for your serum, if it is ready."

Silence. Then, "A volunteer for _this_?"

"Not quite. But you may have another subject shortly." He ended the call.

* * *

About a quarter of an hour later, I looked up from the pamphlet to see a grey-haired man with an air of seniority walking towards me. He extended a hand. "Arthur Petrelli. And your name is?..."

"John Smith," I replied, shaking it. I felt slightly dizzy for a second, and let go quickly. _What just happened?_ Arthur staggered for a second, and looked strangely at me for a second. I blinked, and the moment passed.

"Anyway, I take it you're the reporter from the Times newspaper then? It's good that we're getting extra publicity these days. Although I have to say, you're a long way from home," he said, smiling. It looked a little forced. He opened the door to a set of stairs downwards.

I looked at him, startled. "What?"

He laughed. "Your accent. You still sound English. How many years have you lived here?"

"A few. And yes, I am a long way from home. I don't regret leaving, though." _Lie. Lie. Lie._

Arthur sighed. "Well, I'd better give you the guided tour of the laboratories. They're all here, you know. It helps keep things more… secure, after all. There are rival companies trying to achieve similar things." I became aware of a couple of bodyguards falling into step behind. This was worrying.

I raised an eyebrow. "Top secret works, then?"

"Exactly. It would be highly expensive if anyone managed to get their hands on what we were doing, which is why we don't generally get people down here. Currently, we're working with human DNA to create new combinations of genes. Speeding up human evolution, in a way."

"You do realise that a lot of people think that we've already _reached_ the pinnacle of evolution, then?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

_Obviously a sore point, then._ "So you don't agree, then."

Silence. _Make that a very sore point._ He reached a door numbered 9, and stopped outside it. "You understand that all of this has to be _kept_ secret, then. As a matter of fact, we don't need reporters round here. If there ever are any, they phone beforehand. As opposed to, say, a man who turns up out of nowhere. ID, please." He held out a hand.

I rummaged in my inner jacket pocket, pulling out a banana and the psychic paper, passing it to him. "Here."

He stared at the banana, then looked at the paper. "This is blank." He turned around. "Take him away, boys." The men stepped towards me, and Arthur pressed his hand against a panel. The door slid open, revealing a cell. _Oh shit._

"What?!!" I yelled as they grabbed my arms and shoved me unceremoniously inside. "This is illegal!"

"Yes, well," he said, as the door slid shut, "technically, it's not a crime if the person who vanished doesn't exist in the first place."

I stared at the door, and pulled out the trusty sonic screwdriver. Unfortunately, the door was remotely deadlocked. _So I'm stuck here._

I ate the banana, and decided to wait.

* * *

Keep reviewing!


	5. The Lab Rat

* * *

_In this world of ours, there is no higher meaning, no objective, no higher purpose, just the overwhelming impetus of Life to make sure that something other than silence exists when we are gone, to leave some memory of sound behind. All we can do is to make it hurt as little as possible through this pain, and hope that we are not reborn._ - Anon

* * *

Artemis looked up as the door slid open. An Indian man with a slight British accent walked in, then stopped just inside the cell in surprise.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about this? The other humans, perhaps. But this is just a boy. This is _inhumane, _Arthur," he shouted at someone on the other end of his phone.

"Unfortunately, you don't have much choice here. If you want a cure for this, we need to continue the experiment. I was dubious about this test subject too, but… I suppose the age could be a factor as well in the unpredictable mutations here."

"Very well. But I want you to remember my objection. There is a limit to this."

"Objection noted, Mohinder," replied Arthur. The line went dead, and Mohinder pocketed it, still looking annoyed.

"Are you quite done yet?" asked Artemis coolly. The doctor looked up at him, startled. _Obviously he wasn't expecting someone this young. Although fourteen/eighteen is hardly 'young'._

"Yes, unfortunately. I'm sorry about this, but you'll have to come with me. You don't really have a choice. For that matter, neither do I." Mohinder grimaced at the last few words.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "No choice. How, exactly?" He got up off the mattress. _Highly suspicious. _

"If you do anything, we both die," said Mohinder shortly, leading the way up the stairs. "And if you listen to me, we may both die anyway. The only _difference_ is that this way, there is a small probability we might both win. Or, at least, not lose."

"So they have you over a barrel, then." _I was right. _"In what way?"

Mohinder didn't answer, opening a glass pair of doors into a laboratory instead. Artemis looked round carefully, storing every piece of information inside his brain. _The probability they'll just let me walk away is extremely low, so I might as well see if there's some way out of here._

The walls were glass, allowing anyone to see what was happening behind them. A series of computers with simulated models of organic compounds, variations on DNA structure, solar flares, and vital statistics of various people. The people who were in the neighbouring rooms, and were fully visible to anyone in the laboratory, Artemis assumed. Although a few of them didn't really resemble humans any more. Artemis swallowed, and looked away towards a series of syringes with some kind of fluid inside.

"And you need my help." It wasn't a question. "With perfecting this." Artemis gestured at the syringes, then thought for a second. "Except that you obviously don't know who I am." _I'm the lab rat in this experiment. _And then, _I have to get out of here. _"I don't suppose you would happen to have a toilet anywhere?" he asked, with a feeble attempt at casual innocence.

Mohinder sighed, thumbing a door on the left. "And don't bother trying to escape. There's no window, anyway."

* * *

Three minutes later, he had to yank Artemis out of the air vent. _Bugger. He's a lot stronger than he looks._ "I did warn you," sighed Mohinder.

Artemis followed him back into the lab. "So I'm just supposed to let you stick that into me, then?"

The doctor stared at the boy in front of him, mismatched eyes downcast. _What have I become? Doing this for my own purposes? But I can't let him go. Maybe Arthur was right about the age factor._

"Yes," said Mohinder eventually. "I need to take a blood sample first, though. Sit down here. It'll probably sting a little." He took the proffered arm, and strapped Artemis relatively securely onto the bed.

_This is probably the first time I have ever prayed_ not_ to heal,_ thought Artemis.

* * *

Holly stepped shakily out of the pod. The ride was a little rougher than she remembered, probably because of some larger flares on the way. _Still,_ she thought, _that's no excuse. I'm no rookie riding the hotshots._

She checked the port light, waiting for it to turn green. "Come on, stupid Mud People, move!" she muttered through clenched teeth. Finally, it changed, and she shielded, sliding the door open. She blinked in the sunlight, and activated her wings, hovering under the bridge. "Foaly, have you got the coordinates of the hotel?"

She heard tapping from the other end, and a crunch. "Okay," he said through a mouthful of carrot. "We have her location. Just follow the big red arrow. Totally foolproof."

Holly stared at the arrow on her helmet display. "I'm not _that_ stupid. You can make it smaller, I can't see anything past it now."

She heard a tut, and some more tapping. The arrow vanished altogether to be replaced by a small map with a pointer, flashing dot and a compass. Holly laughed, and set off in the right direction, the map spinning with her. "You got that idea from those human computer games you've been playing, didn't you? World of War, or whatever it's called."

"For your information," replied Foaly, with great dignity, "it is called World of Warcraft. And besides, they have centaurs on that game."

Holly snorted. "You're not actually _supposed _to be able to play as centaur."

"It was worth it to see what they typed after being marauded by the entire Kolkar horde. Totally worth two minute's hacking time."

"You know," said Holly, "I seriously think you need to get out more." She landed at the front door of the hotel, and walked inside with a man in a tuxedo. "Wow. This place is posh." She stared around at all the glass and elegant sculptures, as a bellboy hurried across the hall. "What floor is Angeline staying on?"

"Gimme a second." Foaly crunched another carrot, and tapped some more on his keyboard. "OK. Sixth floor, room 602. Now boarding on the lift on the left."

Holly ran over to the lift, and managed to slip inside. Fortunately, it was large, and there was only an old lady and a small boy inside, so she stood in the other corner. The doors slid shut.

One… two… three… four… five… six. _Ding._ The doors slid open again, and Holly slid out, brushing lightly against the old lady. _Oops._ The lady looked up, and shook her head. "Did you see something, Dillie?" she asked the boy, who shook his head silently, and led her out of the lift.

Holly stood flat against the wall to let the two pass, then went over to room 602. "Now what?" she whispered. The door was wood, with a card scanner under the handle instead of a conventional lock. She leaned towards the door. Voices inside. Myles, Bennett, Butler and Angeline.

"Take the obvious path. There are cameras down here, so just knock."

Holly knocked.

Angeline opened the door, and said to no-one in particular, "You can come in now." She shut the door again, and Holly unshielded, lifting off her helmet.

Angeline smiled. "It's good to see you properly this time, Holly." Butler got up from a plush sofa to hug Holly, almost squeezing all the air out of her lungs, and Beckett waved at her. Myles whispered something in Beckett's ear.

Holly smiled, but it quickly faded as she remembered the reason she was there. "What happened?"

Angeline's mouth tightened, and Butler shifted on the sofa uneasily. Holly guessed that he felt much of the guilt for losing his young charge. "He vanished while we were returning to the hotel from the spa. Butler had been taking our shopping back at the time." She paused, and looked down. The sky outside darkened, as if in response to her words.

"You didn't see what happened, then?" asked Holly gently.

"No, he was walking behind us…" Angeline said, quietly. She held out Artemis's ring. "He must have dropped it; I found it where he was standing." Hesitating, she added, "There was a man. He ran away. All he said was that he was sorry… I don't know any more." Her face crumpled. Holly hugged her, and looked helplessly up at Butler.

"Well," said Holly finally, "I'd better get looking, then."

* * *

Half an hour later, Artemis still felt slightly giddy. However, he hadn't healed himself, fortunately. _Probably a lot of people wouldn't notice the fact that the wound had healed. However, a lot of people wouldn't be conducting DNA splicing experiments. _And then,_ If I hadn't met Holly, would I be doing something like this?_

"Your DNA is mainly normal," noted Mohinder.

"Mainly? Why only 'mainly'?" _Holly's DNA. Of course._

He looked at the boy. "There are some small discrepancies, but I'd say that you had a decent chance of survival."

"And what percentage would that be?" asked Artemis, with an interesting mix of sarcasm and concern.

Mohinder refused to meet Artemis' eyes. "Twenty-five percent, with an error margin of ten percent."

"Survival, I take it." Mohinder swallowed, and nodded, reaching for the syringe.

Artemis shut his eyes. "Wait a second."

Mohinder stopped. "What?"

"Two points. If you see Holly, tell her… it wouldn't have worked. And one other thing. The serum… add some copper sulphate." He heard a jingling of glassware. "0.01mol for every decimeter cubed."

The jingling stopped. "Are you some kind of child genius or something?", surprise evident in Mohinder's voice. "And why are you telling me this?"

Artemis smiled. "Yes, I _am_ a genius, actually. And I am telling you because I still want to live."

He felt a slight pinprick on his bare arm. "Good luck, then. You'll need it."

_I hope not,_ thought Artemis.

* * *

Foaly glanced at the eclipse displayed on-screen from one of his precious hijacked human Scopes, and continued to listen in to Holly's conversation, turning back to the feed from her iris-cam.

* * *

_the moon, drifts across_

_the sun, brings change to those_

_reaching higher form_

* * *

Need... more caffeine... have to type... faster...

The haiku is mine. Mine, I say!


	6. Dying of the Light

_

* * *

_

_Do not go gentle into that good night,  
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_(Dylan Thomas)_

* * *

Waiting in a very small concrete box is fairly boring, in case you didn't guess. I am not the kind of person who enjoys staying in one place for long periods of time. Especially not in what was, let's face it, a prison cell. Travelling is my life.

The door slid open to reveal an Indian man in the doorway. "Finally. You took long enough. Is it automatic evil genius protocol to leave unfortunate reporters to fester in a dungeon somewhere or something?" I asked. _Always try sarcasm first._

His eyes narrowed. "My name is Dr Suresh," he said, in an English accent. _English? Interesting._ "I know that your being in here has something to do with the fact that you turned up at a company with highly classified genetics research as a reporter, despite the fact no newspaper had rung up beforehand, and also despite the fact that you had no identification whatsoever, just a blank piece of paper." He paused. "Hardly legal in America, especially when you don't even technically exist on any database"

"So apart from my lack of ID, you have no reason to have me here. Why is it always the day I leave it at home?" I sighed.

"Cut the junk, please. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

_The truth would sound ridiculous. 'Oh yes, I'm an alien from the future and I came here because your company card showed up on my time-travelling machine's screen, so now I'm stuck here with you. And I have two hearts.'_ "What makes you think I would tell you anyway?" I asked, standing up.

"Just a vague hope. Come with me." It wasn't a request.

"You're sick," I said.

The doctor (_ha!_) glanced backwards at me. "For kidnapping fake nonexistent reporters?" he said dryly.

"No. You really are sick, and I don't mean that as an insult. Such are the unfortunate side effects of tampering with DNA." _Also, you smell like a female Racnoss on heat. Not very pleasant._

He stopped. "What are you talking about? And how would _you_ know?"

"It's pretty obvious. _Doctor_ Suresh. Genetics. Research." I ticked them off. "You wanted to enhance yourself, didn't you? And you made a mistake." _This is the wrong time, though. This shouldn't happen until next century. Too early._

Suresh didn't answer, but continued along the corridor, opening a door which led into a glass-walled laboratory. _Glass and metal? How typical._ I followed him inside, looked around, and saw people strapped to beds, vital monitors attached, with  
similar problems to his; most of them were further advanced down that route, though. One was probably dead, not even looking human any more. Plus, it smelt in the room. I wrinkled my nose. "This is disgusting. That," I pointed, "is a boy. You experimented on him, then?"

His lips tightened. "I had no choice about that, unfortunately."

I laughed mirthlessly. "They promised you a cure. This is so pathetic." _Even worse than destroying a class 4 sentient planet to get radioactive fuel. The Slitheen have standards, at least. _I wondered whether to leave or not. _My conscience has enough weighing on it, thank you very much. I might be able to get out of here alive with him._

I decided at this point to get out and use a potent cyclohexane-based knockout spray on the man opposite me.

It was a simple plan.

It was an excellent plan.

Of course, it didn't work, and it was promptly followed up by a soon-to-be bruise and/or lump on my head.

_Or, alternatively, not. Stupid genetic mutations…_and then, just darkness.

Holly left the building shielded, waiting for someone to open the lift for her. _After all,_ she reasoned, _someone would surely notice if a lift door opened for no reason in a hotel. Wouldn't they?_

"You do realise that you don't actually _have _to do that," said Foaly. "Humans are probably the most inobservant creatures in the universe ever."

Holly sighed at the voice in her head. "Did you catch all of that?"

"Yep." A disgusting noise followed the monosyllabic reply.

"Foaly, what in Frond's name are you doing, and where is your precious sensor that took the readings?" It was unusually dark, and Holly checked her monometer; had the conversation been that long? _Only 5 pm local time, so it should still be light._ She glanced upwards to see the eclipse, a fiery halo around a circle of darkness.

There was a sigh. "For your information, this is a beetle juice box I'm drinking, and I'm just putting in the location for you now. Just head for the dot." The minimap flashed again with a new dot showing.

Holly activated her wings again, leaving the hotel behind. _Where are you, Artemis? What have you got up to this time?_

* * *

…reverberating through places, unseen…

…until it reaches another place that looks very like the first…

* * *

_Pain. Hurt. Ache. Agony. Torture. Torment._

_There are a lot of words to describe suffering in the English language._

Artemis tried to focus on something else, his throat burning. _I could do with some water right now._ He blinked, and suddenly his vision split, one eye blurrily showing the room he was in, with someone else in the bed next to him. The other, a darkened city skyline, with the moon moved in front of the sun. _I'd forgotten about that. _He blinked again, and it vanished. _Hallucinations,_ he thought, drowsy with pain.

Artemis returned to unconsciousness shortly after.

* * *

Here, and here, and _here,_ is the minutae of a tracery of capillaries...

If the eye focused a little more, it might perhaps have been able to see the massive numbers of recoded virii, injecting small portions of not-quite-human DNA into body cells, and the ions and blood cells floating freely within plasma.

But this isn't enough. The new genetic coding is inside, to be sure, but the two different sections refuse to combine. That is, until a tiny blue spark appears, nudging and fusing the two together.

And the world turns on.

* * *

I woke up to a headache. _Ugh. I feel like I just drank a lot of alcohol. Fomarian-style cocktails have a real punch... Remind me never to be the bartender for a Torchwood party again._ I groaned.

At this point, my senses reminded me of the bruise coming up on my head, the immediate past, and the insistent beeping noise coming from the monitor. _Hey, that's my heartbeat! Well, _one_ of my heartbeats. The other one seems to be missing from this monitor._[1] However, the second heart was still there, working perfectly fine. _And I'm still alive. Big plus there. _The pessimist in me promptly responded, _Yes. You're alive and in the hands of an evil geneticist, who has probably nicked all your stuff that could possibly be useful in getting out of here. That's a really massive plus._

I groaned, and moved, straining against the straps which were, surprise, strapping me to the bed. They looked like the type used in mental asylums to stop people from hurting themselves. There was also a bandage around my arm. Turning my head around, I saw the boy I'd seen earlier. He had an unhealthy pallor, and he looked feverish. _Not good._ In the other direction was Dr. Suresh, who hurried over. "You're conscious," he noted.

"You're observant. I'm also strapped to a bed, and currently have an extremely sore head." _Thank you so very much, Dr. Suresh. The whole _point_ of being a doctor is to make people better, not worse._

"Yes. Sorry about that, but unfortunately, spraying knockout spray in someone's face is an invitation to violence." He went back to a centrifuge, inserting a syringe with what I guessed was probably blood, or possibly ketchup. "I also confiscated most of your little gadgets, apart from the banana, the boiled sweets and the water. Not really much you can do with those."

Oh, yes. I can do _so _much with a banana. Excellent for daiquiris, smoothies and keeping up your potassium levels, and making botched bank robberies. (The last one did actually happen, for your information – I was there. Go look it up on the internet.)

Unfortunately, the rare and soon-to-be-extinct fruit that is the banana is completely lacking in sharp edges, tiny razor thorns or anything that would be any use if, say, you were strapped to a bed. It's just food, which is quite useful if you're starving, but still. Likewise, water and sherbet lemons were unlikely to help here. _Don't panic. Professor Song knew you, and the past has already happened. So this is all going to be fine. Probably._

"We already injected you with the serum, although I hadn't finished testing your blood." _Great. _"Although…" He turned to face me, and gave me a strange look. "It really is _extraordinary_. Enough of the results have come back for it to be evident. You have abilities too, don't you?"

"Yes. I can charm anyone from about, say, 100m away. Plus, I have an excellent dress sense. If you want any help…" I winked.

"No, I mean telepathy. Regenerative abilites. All the things that I'm working towards synthesising." He shook his head, and walked over to the computer "But your blood is something else. I'm not entirely sure what yet, though. Half of it is similar to normal human DNA, but the other half…"

"You don't know what you're dealing with here."

"Of course I do. Adenine, thymine, guanine, cytosine and these four extra bits _here_ and _here_ that there isn't a name for. It's fascinating, really. Almost like the DNA of a new species."

_Wow, when do you think he'll actually realise?_ At this point, something in my abdomen twinged painfully._ Ouch. I think that was my liver complaining._ I groaned again. "Whatever you put in that injection really isn't good." I turned my head to look at the boy in the bed next to mine. All I could tell about him from this distance was that he was in some pain. _Extended time period for the recombination process. Double ouch._ I could feel some of it with my empathy even over this distance.

_If I manage to get out of here, he's coming with me, and anyone in here who's still alive. Probably the reason why she _(the TARDIS)_ came here anyway._

_I will get out of this. And I swear, Arthur, you will pay for this._

* * *

By the way, I blame the Heroes Parody Project – I am now unable to use the word "extraordinary" without laughing. (It's all Spencer44's fault!)

[1] One point about Time Lord anatomy - there _are_ two heartbeats, but the hears service different parts of the body, so unless you have two sensors attached to different places, there wouldn't be any noticeable difference.

* * *


	7. Pain and Truffles

_It's... beautiful, but is it art?_

_Of course it's art! Anything can be art! If people can paint naked ladies and sell dustbin bags as art, then this is art, too._

* * *

In a now-abandoned loft in New York, there is dust, insects, empty web-like cocoons on the wall of a partitioned room, scientific equipment, and a painting of an explosion on the floor. It used to belong to an artist, then a scientist.

Now, however, it doesn't belong to anyone, except perhaps the small creatures that now live there. There are still the trappings of human life there, though.

As an example, a cupboard with clothes in, as well as assorted scraps of paper, discarded and long-forgotten by the person who originally drew the pictures on them. He's dead now, but his work is still here.

_His art, their future._

A boy, half his face in shadow, eyes mismatched. A woman with blonde hair, weeping on the ground. A blue box, standing there, its light darkened, with shapes around it fallen to the pavement. And the earth in shadow, with a single point of light.

* * *

Holly blinked. Just for a second, there had been a flash of a glass laboratory. She shook her head. "Foaly, what did your sensor register anyway?" she asked.

"That's the strange thing. High gravity in a very localised area, as well as all sorts of weird temperature and pressure readings."

"Do we have any past occurrences of these readings, anything it might be?"

"Yup. A few options here. One, sensor malfunction of course. Two, a minute black hole, and three, somebody's been poking around with our sensor," replied Foaly. "Considering it's stuck to the underside of a drain cover, I'd say that was pretty unlikely though."

Holly pulled a face. "And the odds of a black hole are?"

"Very, very, very small. I've been tracking CERN's progress, but that's in Europe, so…"

"So your equipment fouled up again," said Holly, laughing.

"_Or,_" Foaly replied hurriedly, "we do actually have a black hole. Given that Artemis was around here, I might actually be inclined to believe that."

"Anyway, do we have anything I could use to find Artemis?"

"Critters, of course, but unless he's now radioactive, they won't be useful to you really. Your best bet would be to start with the sensor."

Holly thought for a second. "Wait. Artemis got sprayed with a tracer in Opal's laboratory in the past. Do you know what tracer she used to use?"

Foaly hemmed and hawed for a few seconds, then finally said, "Opal was _extremely_ secretive about everything she did. I could try asking her, though…"

Holly snorted. "Exactly how are you going to get Opal to tell you?"

The centaur winked at the camera at this point. "We have ways and means…"

"Whatever. I'll check the sensor just in case there _is_ something wrong with it."

* * *

Foaly swivelled round in his chair, thought for a moment about what Holly said, and cackled, typing out a LEP internal request on his keyboard and humming along to Riverbend.

* * *

Under the ocean in the Deeps of Atlantis, Opal was sitting in a padded cell, scribbling out yet another letter to her attorney to get her out of prison. _This is a pathetic excuse for a cell. It doesn't even have PPTV. How is one supposed to utilise a cunning plan to break out of it? _She thumped her fists against the wall in frustration.

Suddenly, the speakers crackled into life. "Opal?"

_Should I reply? It's hardly as if I have anywhere to go here, anyway._ "Yes, although I still think you should refer to me as 'Your Highness'."

"…we have an offer for you."

_Intriguing._ Opal turned on her charm. "But of course."

There was a cough. "All right. What we need is the type of tracer that you used for the laboratory that you built in Fez."

She was completely thrown, but recovered quickly. "You really want that? And there I thought it was something important. What's in it for me?" she sighed.

"Your letters will be processed a lot faster."

"…is that it?" _This really is a pathetic attempt at bribery._

"Also, one medium crate of chocolate truffles, cocoa-powder coated."

"How many truffles would that be?" murmured Opal, already thinking of how much time that would pass. _The one thing I really missed…_

"Oh, a lot. At least a thousand."

Opal pondered for a second. It didn't take long to decide. "Very well."

"Those truffles had better be good, though," she added as an afterthought.

* * *

Holly landed at the sewer cover. "Foaly?"

"Right with you, darling. What do you want?" asked Foaly.

"…why in the name of Frond did you place a vitally important sensor under a _sewer cover_?"

"Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time! Quiet, little-disturbed place? Check. Not obvious to humans? Check. Not likely to be moved in the near future? Check. It all sounded good in practise."

"So you completely failed to think of the person who would have to wade through effluent in order to check your precious technology, then." Holly ground her teeth in frustration. "Do you at least have the data from Opal, then?"

"Yep. Just adjusting your Critters. They should be useable to track Artemis, or any other local sources of δ-radiation if you like." There was some tapping, and a compartment on her sleeve flared briefly with light. "All done. They should work when you release them, but I wouldn't do that just yet since they're one-use only."

Holly stared. "How did you get that out of Opal? She hates you."

"Two words: _chocolate truffles._" Foaly chuckled. "Also, I asked someone else to talk to her. That probably helped."

Holly lifted up the drain cover slightly and slipped inside before anyone noticed. She turned around, activating night vision which showed up everything in eerie shades of green and black.

"Just to your left," said Foaly helpfully.

Holly approached it warily, noting the… _thing_… draped next to it. _Remind me to thank Foaly for the gold he spent researching air purifiers. It probably stinks down here._ She placed a glove on the sensor. "Foaly?"

"Uh-huh. Taking readings now…" There was some more tapping on the other end, and Holly let go.

"Wait, put your hand back on there again."

Holly obliged. "I thought the omni-scanner only took five seconds?" she asked.

Foaly chewed his lip nervously. "Well, _per se_ the omni-scanner _should_ only take five seconds, but I want to be absolutely certain really, so leave your hand on there a bit longer… oh. D'Arvit."

"What? You're making me nervous now, Foaly." Holly let go again and opened the drain cover, thankful to be out in the fresh air again.

"…remember I mentioned a black hole?"

Holly groaned. _Stupid d'Arvitting Artemis and black holes._ "Yes."

"…the sensor is perfectly operational."

"So there was a black hole, and Artemis is probably dead." Holly's throat constricted. _And I'm going to have to tell Angeline._

Foaly cleared his throat. "Actually… Artemis may not be dead. Did you do a course at the Science College?"

Holly sighed, half-relieved, half-impatient. "Foaly, you _know_ I only trained for the LEP. Just give me your theory and be done with it."

"Anyway, we had to study highly dense particles with extremely high gravity. Up to a point, they do exactly what you'd expect, but after that they went quite strange after that. The container holding one of them just…" Foaly snapped his fingers. "Vanished. Like that. We came up with a few theories, one of them being that the high density made a little… weeeell…" He was silent for a minute, then said, "Unstable. Like the portal No.1 opened to Limbo."

Holly was aghast. "So now Artemis is stuck in a different dimension. How the hells did he get there?"

"Erm… no idea. There are only three demon warlocks currently in existence, and they're all here in Haven. You're going to have to look somewhere else."

"Right," said Holly grimly, setting off once more. _Didn't Angeline say there was a man behind her when Artemis vanished?

* * *

_Artemis woke up again from nightmares into another nightmare, the blurry vision of two men standing next to his bed. _Father has called the experts in,_ he thought groggily, then threw up over the side as they approached his bed.

"It's getting worse. I don't know what happened this time – it's a different set of problems completely… I really don't know what to do for him." The voice faltered.

A synapse in Artemis' brain sparked for a second. _Where is Mother, and where is the rest of my family? Where is this place? Am I that ill to be put in isolation?_

"Can you do anything?" _Mohinder. That was his name._

"Unfortunately, I don't have Lindermann's ability. He took it with him to the grave. Rather ironic, considering what it was." There was a pause. "He thinks we're family doctors sent by his father, apparently."

_You were beaten up and taken here to experiment on. He's reading your mind,_ realised the part of Artemis that was resolutely cold and intelligent, unaffected by fever. And then, _GET OUT!_

The man reeled backwards, massaging his temples from the force of it. With some incredulity, he said, "He felt me there."

Mohinder caught his breath. "What?!" he said hoarsely. "Please tell me you're being serious. So it's working, then? Telepathy?"

Arthur took hold of Artemis' hand, which suddenly felt numb. Artemis tried to pull away from him, but couldn't due to the restraining straps on his forearms and the fact that he had to lean over the side of the bed to vomit again. _The cleaner of this place is just going to love me,_ he thought.

Arthur frowned. "No. There's something strange, but it isn't an ability… it has nothing to do with genetics. He has a strong mind, though." He let go, and the numbness faded.

Mohinder was left staring at the boy. "And the other?" he asked.

"Ah… the fake journalist is a problem. I suspect he may have had abilities, or knew something about us. I couldn't read _his_ mind either, for one thing. Keep a closer eye on both of them for me. I'll send Flint down in case anything happens." Arthur left the laboratory, the doors closing quietly behind him.

Artemis turned over to vomit again, and heard a groan from another bed. _That would be the journalist, I suppose._ Looking up, he could just about make out a dark figure to his left on the next bed, as a wave of pain passed through his body again.

"Ow," it said, as Artemis passed out.

* * *

I gritted my teeth. _Great, and I have to feel _everyone's_ pain around here as well._

_I'll pay this price for what I did. For all those deaths in the Time Wars._ I shuddered at those memories, resurfacing again; the bloody imprint of her fading life. Her screams. _No. All of them, I swear. And when I get out, Arthur is going to die very, very painfully. I'm not a violent person, but I think I can make an exception here, just this once._

The pain lessened, eventually. I wasn't really sure whose pain it was any more, considering that both the boy next to me and I were going through similar experiences. _Probably both combined. Aren't I lucky?_

Dr. Suresh picked absent-mindedly at something on his hand, dropping it with some distaste. I focused on it. _It's a… a scale. Reptilian. _And then,_ Ouch. Not again…_

"I don't suppose I could get any morphine? Paracetamol? Nurofen? Not Panadol though, I'm allergic. Some kind of painkillers? A banana? Anything?"

I gave up, and resigned myself to what I was feeling. _Live with it. You've lived through worse._

He walked over to the syringe rack, and added some powder of some kind to water in a syringe. "Why bananas?" he asked.

I almost smiled. _I keep getting asked that question._ "Because bananas are excellent for keeping up high levels of potassium, polishing shoes, making cocktails and bad jokes at parties. Also, I _like_ bananas." He brought over the syringe.

"This will sting, but it probably won't be any worse than what you're already feeling." _Wait, what?_ Bending over, he injected it into my right wrist artery.

_Huh._

The pain started to slack off, providing a half-minute of relief, then intensified again as the boy went into convulsions, the heart monitor beeping urgently. "You might want to do the same for him. Please." However, Suresh was already injecting him again with the same substance. _So it is paracetamol, then._

"Thanks," I said, somewhat drowsily now. The boy started to settle down, and the beeping of the monitor slowed down to 75 bpm, then started to drop further still to 20 bpm. _Not good._ The pager and monitor started beeping urgently once more, as the doctor rushed over to the bed, and I… well, I fell asleep with the boy.

* * *

"_To sleep, perchance to dream."_ Hamlet

* * *


	8. Dreaming

Reviews are love, I don't own any of the characters except the OCs, please persuade Random Houses to write Eram quod es, eris quod sum faster for me, and... that's about it, I think.

* * *

_When you wish upon a star… _Wishes,

"_We become what we wish for. We are the shape and sum of all our dreams and desires, what we hoped for. But not every dream is beautiful; many are nightmares, tainted with our own darkness. And not every desire is fully known to ourselves."_

* * *

Artemis' mind was suddenly cleared of fog, mist and darkness. He opened his eyes to see a room, with a dark-haired woman handcuffed and strapped to a chair, her head hung down.

"Interesting," he said. _Is this a dream?_ "Who are you?"

She blinked, and looked up at Artemis with an unfathomable expression on her face. "Angela Petrelli. And you… are Artemis Fowl."

Artemis felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "How do you know me?"

Angela smiled humourlessly. "I dreamt of you a while ago; a year ago, in fact. When my sons almost died as a result of an unfortunate accident. And then I knew what had to happen."

"This is a dream." It was a statement and a question at the same time.

"Yes. But did you really expect to wake up to see a woman shackled to a wooden chair, in a place you've probably never seen?" She lifted her hands slightly to prove her point.

"Hardly." Artemis walked over to the chair, and started fiddling with the handcuffs clipped to Angela's wrists. He reached into a pocket for a scavenged fairy Omnitool to open the lock, when she stopped him.

"No," she said.

"What are you talking about?" asked Artemis, puzzled. _She doesn't want to get out of here?_ He pulled out the device anyway.

"No. Leave it. I'll stay here. I've seen the future. I'll be out of here soon."

Artemis raised an eyebrow, and put away the Omnitool. "Why?"

She returned his stare, her dark eyes boring into him. "Because it's necessary."

He turned round, then realised that he had no idea how he got there, and no idea how to leave. "How do I get out?" he asked.

"Through the door, I would assume."

Artemis rattled the handles. "It's locked."

Angela sighed. "I should have expected as much. Arthur must have locked them so no-one can leave, only enter."

He walked over to a different set of doors, and tried to open them with no luck. Frustrated, he bashed the door with his elbow, which suddenly flew open. Surprised, he staggered forward, and the room blurred. Artemis turned around just in time to see Angela watch him leave and the door slam shut behind him…

…and saw himself.

* * *

Holly spotted a man matching Angeline's description on the roof of a building, and guessed what he was about to do. _Oh no you don't,_ she thought. _I'm getting some answers from you first._ She leapt upwards, activating her wings.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Holly," said Foaly.

"Not a clue," Holly replied, as she reached the roof and snatched the man just as he stepped off it.

Then the signal went down.

Foaly swore. "Holly? Holly, what happened?"

Nothing. He frantically typed in commands, bringing up Holly's suit sensors. _This device is out of range._ Foaly punched the keyboard, once, twice, three times, causing the escape key to break and fly across the desk into his sim-coffee.

He didn't notice. He was still in a state of shock.

Holly and Artemis were both gone.

* * *

It is an interesting fact that when you are under stress – say, if something invisible snatched you off a roof as you were about to commit suicide – adrenalin floods your system, causing "fight or flight" response. This essentially causes the body to use any and all available and potentially helpful resources at its disposal, including, say, the ability to create black holes and vortices.

_D'Arvit,_ thought Holly, holding on to the Mud Man's arm for dear life as everything went… strange. There was a sensation of heat, cold, gravity, and, oddly enough, purple. Eventually she hit solid ground with a sense of euphoria, and let go.

Wherever this place was, it certainly wasn't Earth. No place on Earth that Holly had ever seen had creatures like this, with the landscape so unspoilt; sky-blue birds with cloud-like wings. _Even the plants feel more alive here_, she thought, then her jaw dropped as what seemed to be a sunflower got up and moved.

Holly stared, then turned back to the human, who had, it seemed, been knocked unconscious. _When he wakes up, I'm getting some answers._ She powered down her shield, re-entering the visible spectrum as she reached for the panel on her suit that would release the Critters.

Holly froze for a second. _What if Artemis isn't here? How am I going to find him?_ "Foaly. Any ideas that could help?" she asked.

Nothing came back, just static. _You have no signal_. Holly punched the ground.

She pressed the catch, carefully releasing some of the Critters and trapping the rest in the compartment. _As Foaly might say, "Release the hounds,"_ thought Holly.

A swarm of tiny glowing Critters was released into the air, and hesitated for a few moments before heading swiftly away towards a cluster of trees, a shielded Holly flying swiftly after them.

* * *

Artemis stared at himself, asleep and lying on the bed in the laboratory.

_Is this what they mean by an out-of-body experience? Am I about to die?_ He looked around, and saw the readings on the monitor. _32 bpm. About coma level… So this is another incredibly realistic dream._ He took another step towards himself, and stopped. _Am I really that pale? _He turned to his left to see a man with black hair lying on the bed next to his, in a similar state. _The fake journalist they mentioned._

There was a _crump_ noise from behind Artemis, who quickly turned around to see Mohinder crushing another syringe in his hand._ Dammit, why isn't he waking up? With all the adrenalin I gave him…_ He punched the table, leaving a small dent and a scale stuck to the table, which he regarded with disgust. _Pathetic. I can't even save my own life, let alone his. _Mohinder swore briefly. "Fuck."

Artemis approached him curiously, unsure of what to say, just standing there.

_There must be something else I can do. Something. Anything. _Mohinder picked up the syringe, and threw it in the bin with perfect accuracy, causing a surprisingly melodious sound. _High G._

Artemis winced. "It's a high A, actually."

_What? _Mohinder turned around quickly. "Who's there? Flint, if this one of your stupid pranks again…" he muttered, paying no attention to Artemis.

_This could be useful for getting out of here,_ thought Artemis, and made for a door. _I need to get out of here. This place is suffocating me. Upwards, I think._

Artemis looked at Mohinder and went up the stairs.

* * *

It was… exhilarating. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much energy; after he completed the Ritual for the first and only time? The thrill of the chase, outfoxing Jon Spiro, Opal Koboi (_how many times was that?_)… no. This was something different, he felt. Taking the stairs two at a time, then three, four, losing count as he flew up the stairs, a blur of light.

He finally reached the rooftop of the building, completely ignoring the lock on the door that led to it, drawn by the moon's alluring song. It was strong here, a perfect full moon in the sky, almost close enough to touch. Bringing back the fairy race's memories of sadness for the Earth's lost innocence…

_Memories. Holly. Butler. Mother. Foaly. Mulch. _Artemis came back to himself in a sudden rush. _I need to get back to my family. Now. _The rational part of his mind reminded him that he was now several stories up, on the roof of a building in the USA, having an OoBE. He ignored it, and sprinted to the side of the rooftop, taking a step off the roof just as the rational part of his mind reminded him once again about the fact that the terminal velocity of someone jumping off a seven-storey roof is usually terminal for a _reason_, mainly because acceleration due to gravity is 9.81 metres per second squared (to 3 sf).

He didn't fall down, as part of him expected, instead continuing to run on thin air. _Suspension of disbelief?_ _This is probably a hallucination. _Artemis pinched himself. Painfully. He winced. _A very realistic hallucination._

Artemis kept running, accelerating impossibly fast towards the morning and the ocean, the scenery in front blurring into blue. _I'm coming, Mother._

Perhaps some physicists would have been interested to know that, had Artemis turned around at that point, the skyscrapers behind him would have appeared red.

* * *

_"_…_And I'd give the world if I could hear_

_That song again today…"_

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

_I need love, reviews are love, therefore I need reviews. Let's hear it for Critical Thinking!_

* * *

The Critters finally settled down, and died. Holly stared at the somehow familiar creature in front of her. It was currently sniffing her, puzzled at the invisible creature in front of it and the glowing things that had just landed on it. _What is this creature?_ It resembled an oversized yellow mouse, with long ears and a thunderbolt tail.

"Pika pi?" it said ("Shimmery-air-person?"). Holly unsealed her helmet, and unshielded for a closer inspection. _I can't talk to it. That's odd…_

"Pika!" it said happily, and jumped her, hugging her leg ("Yay!"). _D'Arvit. Please tell me this isn't Artemis. _She tried to get it off her leg, without much success, eventually pulling it off with both hands.

"Pika pi chu?" it asked curiously ("What are you doing?"). Holly lifted the Pikachu to her forehead, and sent out a small amount of magic; it didn't feel anything like Artemis had. She withdrew, and put down the creature, wondering what to do next to find that _d'Arvit_ing teenage boy*. _Going back to that other man would be a start,_ thought Holly.

* * *

* not literally_ D'Arvit_ing, of course. That's just kind of... eew.

* * *

He didn't remember much of that time afterwards, apart from the rushing of wind. He wasn't even sure how long it took to get there, but eventually the familiar west coastline of the Emerald Isle came into view in daylight. He headed for Dublin. _The manor is close, so it should be relatively easy to find it from Dublin after all._

Artemis looked down when he reckoned he should be quite close.

There was nothing there. No mansion, no several-acre garden, no aerodrome. Just trees, in a wood; no sign that any humans had ever lived there. _What happened? No. No…_

The world spun around him, as buzzing crept into the edge of his hearing, a low-pitched, irritating noise, increasing in volume.

The world shattered into pieces.

* * *

Holly landed once more in front of the man who'd brought her to this place, with the little Pikachu following behind her. It seemed to be quite attached to her. _There might be some problems about that when I get back,_ she thought.

He was currently groaning on the ground. _Good. He's awake. _Holly removed her Neutrino from its holster, just in case, and prodded the Mud Man with her toe. He rolled over, and his face froze upon seeing Holly.

"Pika pi chu!" cried Pikachu happily ("Yay! New friend!"), and promptly sat down on the man's chest, causing Holly to groan and attempt to lift him off. However, Pikachu clung stubbornly to the man's top, refusing to let go until Holly gave in.

The Mud Man was still staring at her. "Is all of this a hallucination?" he said quietly, in English.

Holly considered her options:

1. Pretend to be an alien.

2. Say yes.

3. Say no.

4. Tell him the truth.

5. Put him under the _mesmer_.

Holly plumped for number four, under the fact that she was in a totally unfamiliar place and would probably need her magic for later. "I don't _think_ this is a hallucination," she said carefully, in English.

"You can speak."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Wow, really? I honestly hadn't noticed. What the hell happened, anyway?"

He looked at the Pikachu, and tried to sit up without much success. "I… can do things," he whispered. "At first I thought I was just going insane, but… then they locked me up, I don't know how long. It was just an accident, but I thought… I thought I killed him. I didn't deserve to live, so I tried to die." He glanced at Holly, with a bitter look on his face. "And I can't even do that."

Holly held up her hand. "Whoa, slow down. What's your name?"

"Stephen Canfield."

"And _you_ brought us here?"

Stephen looked down at Pikachu on his chest, and lifted a hand to scratch it behind the ears. "Piiiiii…" it murmured in content. ("Ahhh… keep scratching.")

"Yes."

"…how?"

"I can create black holes." Stephen stopped scratching. "God, that sounds _really_ stupid. Who are you, anyway?"

"… you're serious?" Holly asked hopefully. _Maybe I'll wake up with a nice headache and find out this is all just a nettle-beer induced dream._

"Yes."

Holly mentally bashed her head against a wall. "D'Arvit."

_I might as well tell him the truth. _Holly took a deep breath. "All right… I'm a fairy. An elf, to be precise. And I _was_ trying to find out why exactly Artemis vanished off the face of the earth."

Stephen didn't even blink. "And I thought my day was strange."

He stood up, much to Pikachu's disappointment, who slid off him.

"Wait, what are you doing?" asked Holly.

"Trying to help you. Take my hand."

"What?!!"

Stephen grabbed Holly's hand. "I might as well try to make things better. Make up for my mistakes." He focused, just as Pikachu lunged for Holly's leg.

"Pikaa!" ("Wait!")

There was a man, an elf, a Pikachu and what could best be described as an interdimensional vortex.

There was nothing.

There were three pigeons on the grass, which looked rather confused and were, about a day later, eaten by a rather angry Carnivine.

* * *

_Eeeeeeeee…_

"What is it now?" grumbled Mohinder, pulling out the pager from his pocket.

His eyes widened when he saw the message flashing across the screen. "Shit." Mohinder quickly finished in the toilet, and sprinted back to the laboratory. "Shit, shit, SHIT!" he swore, stopping in front of Artemis' body.

The monitor was flatlining, emitting a piercing noise that hurt his ears. Panicking, he started to perform CPR on the boy, hoping that he wouldn't be responsible for the death of this teenager. _How the hell did I get into this?_

_One breath, two breaths, three…_

* * *

Holly took a dizzy step forward onto pavement, and another dizzy step forward onto what _looked_ deceptively like pavement, but had, unfortunately, a definite lack of solidity (one of the most-used properties of pavement). As a result of this, she fell down it, dragging along a rather surprised Stephen and Pikachu.

* * *

Artemis jerked back to his body in shock.

_Fuck._ Mohinder reached for a phone, and punched in an internal code with some force. "Arthur, pick _up,_ dammit."

"Yes? Is this about the formula, Mohinder?"

"Yes."

"It's working?" _That's all he can think about? His precious formula?_

"The two most recent subjects reacted differently to all the others."

"Good."

"The boy's dead."

There was a pause. Then, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's all you can _say_? I didn't take the fucking Hippocratian oath to experiment on teenaged boys, for God's sake, Arthur." Mohinder slammed the phone back down onto its cradle, cracking it. _I don't care any more. I'm handing in my resignation to him after this – _

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Mohinder froze, and turned around to look at the vitals monitor, hardly daring to believe it was true.

It was still there. BPM: 40, 50, 60, 70… the boy's chest rose gently with the intake of air, and fell again.

He let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding in the first place. _Remind me to thank Cosmas, Damian and Luke. Just in case._

* * *

Holly groaned under the weight. _Ugh… I think a rib is broken._ She tried to move, but stopped as the pain intensified. _Who the hell sets up holograms over a hole in the pavement anyway?_

There was noise, which eventually resolved itself into English in her ears.

"…Jack, you bloody idiot, I _told _you someone could fall in through that hole in the pavement you left"! But _you_ said - and I quote here – 'I show you something wonderful and all you can do is find problems with it,'" shouted a female voice with a Welsh accent.

"Calm down, Gwen, I'm sure it's – "

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S A BLOODY 20 METRE FALL DOWN FROM THERE, JACK!" shrieked Gwen.

"Right, so _you_ go get Martha. I'll sort this out for now."

More footsteps. Holly shifted slightly under Stephen's body, which seemed, if possible, heavier than before. _D'Arvit…_

_Heal._

And the blue sparks came forth.

* * *

Cosmas, Damian and Luke are patron saints of doctors.


	10. Breakout

Chapter 10 is out now. I am not Rachel.

* * *

I woke up at the sound of another guerny being wheeled over. _More test subjects? How many do they need to kill before they realise it's not working?_ I turned over to look at the newcomer.

He was… well… brown hair, slight fringe, fairly tall, and probably the sort of man that Jack Harkness would chat up on sight. Jack Harkness. Now _this_ was one situation where a large pointy thing would come in handy. _That sounds disgusting._ I tried to rephrase it mentally into something that sounded slightly less pervy, failed miserably and gave up.

"How did _you_ get here, then?" He was looking at me.

I sighed. "Long story."

He smiled crookedly. "It's not like we're going to be going anywhere soon."

"Weeell, I pretended to be a journalist to get in here, because…" I hesitated. "I found a business card for this place."

"You came here because you found a _business card_?" he said, disbelievingly.

"I'm a big believer in fate. Oh, and call me… John Smith. That'll do."

"This is going to sound really stupid." He shut his eyes. "I hugged my supposedly long-dead father."

"Natural reaction," I replied, wondering where this was going.

"And my name is Peter Petrelli."

I spluttered. "Sorry. You just said Petrelli, right? As in Arthur Petrelli? As in, the Arthur Petrelli who got me in here in the _first _place?" _Please, please let there be clones, I'd rather not have to deal with – _

Peter opened his eyes again, and sighed. "My father. Unfortunately."

_Oh._ My mind completely failed at that point.

Dr. Suresh entered the room, looking somewhat pale and with another needle in his hand. "The serum should work for you, Peter; your DNA would be more prone to accept it, for one thing." _They know each other, then._

Peter struggled against the straps, trying to move away from the needle. "Seriously. I've seen what happens to you in the future. You need to stop!"

The needle stopped. _He's a time agent?_

Mohinder looked at Peter expressionlessly. "What did you see?"

"There was something seriously wrong with you. You wouldn't even show your face to me."

A brief look of sadness flickered across Mohinder's face, barely visible. "Then it's already too late." He picked up a swab.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal another man. Mohinder spun round, swore, and lunged for the newcomer, only to be flung back by a casual gesture. "Sylar, you bastard. What are you here for this time? The son as well as the father?" he spat, pinned against the wall by an invisible force.

Sylar smiled predatorily. "My brother, of course." He flicked a finger, and Mohinder's head cracked nastily against the wall.

I suppressed a shudder. _Telekinesis._

Sylar drew an invisible line across Peter's bonds, who freed his arms from the remains of the straps. "I never thought I'd say this, but thank you," said Peter, massaging his arms.

_Sibling trouble? _Sylar cocked his head. "Isn't that what brothers are supposed to do? Forgive each other when they make mistakes?"

Peter refused to answer, instead choosing to undo the straps on my arms. "Can you do anyone else who's still alive in here?"

Sylar mock-bowed, and focused for a second, shutting his eyes. Opening them again, he gave me a rather strange look. "Only six people."

"Six?" Peter looked confused for a second, then I realised why. There were only five people who were currently under that category; the one-man rescue brigade, Peter, the boy, Mohinder, and my good self. I hadn't missed anybody out, unless the semi-dissected corpse on the table on the far end was still alive. "You're sure?"

"Six heartbeats." I suddenly realised why he'd miscounted._ This could be bad._

"Let's just get out of here while we can," I suggested, getting up painfully. Sylar's eyes flickered to me for a second, then he nodded.

"Family reunion." He smiled twistedly.

I grabbed the contents of my pockets, which were unceremoniously spread across the table, and stuffed them all back in appropriate places. I hauled the teenager over my shoulder; he was surprisingly light. _He's in no condition to run fast enough to get out of here on his own._ "Good luck."

I ran down the nearest attractive-looking corridor, then realised the problem. There were an awful lot of video cameras. _Somebody's very security-conscious round here. _"Right… step one, deactivate video cameras somehow."

Use No. 496 of sonic screwdriver: ruining security systems.

Annoying Point No. 1 of sonic screwdriver: running out of power when you actually need it.

"Damn." The boy groaned as I adjusted my hold on him. "Any suggestions? Help on getting out of here?"

There was a rather strange moment as the universe suddenly stopped moving.

The closest analogy I can describe this as would probably be: you are on a spinning teacups ride, which is spinning around really, really fast. You have been on the ride for so long that you are now accustomed to it. And suddenly the ride stops. _And_ you've had a _lot_ of candyfloss and hotdogs. It isn't a good experience. Trust me.

Rather more disgustingly, the vomit hung in midair about two foot away from my face. _Damn time stasis field._ I managed to regain control again, and decided to make the most of it.

Several corridors later, I spotted a sign saying 'Security Room', and opened the door to reveal a security man lounging on a office chair with a bag of Cheetos. It was rather disturbing watching the screens jitter a little. _Who activated the stasis field anyway, and why am I unaffected?_ I wondered, for the seventh time in what might have been as many minutes, had time not stopped.

Then I spotted a screen that _really_ pissed me off.

Laying the boy on the floor, I hacked into the security system, deactivating a slew of things from remote deadlocks to cameras, getting doors to open and electronic vacuum cuffs (_vacuum cuffs?_) to unlock. _What kind of 21__st__ century genetics company needs vacuum cuffs anway?_ I turned around to get out of the room, and was met with the vision of Arthur Petrelli.

"So you understand how to use your power, then. You're a time traveller," he said, calmly.

I narrowed my eyes. "_You_ activated the stasis field? Why?"

"If by _stasis field_ you mean _stopped time_, the answer is no. You don't understand, do you?" He looked almost as if he was pitying me. This annoyed me even more than anything else. "You did that, I assume. You body reacting unconsciously in an emergency."

_Act ignorant of what he's talking about._ "So what do you want from me, then?" I asked suspiciously, mindful of what the answer would probably be.

Arthur considered the question. "Help. To find out why it worked for you. And to recruit… _others_… like us."

I shook my head. "Nope. Allergic to needles and other things being prodded into me, sorry about that. Besides, generally bundling someone who turns up outside your door into a small cell and later asking them to help you isn't the best way to get on." I raised an eyebrow. "_Capisce?_"

His expression darkened. "Then I suppose I'll have to resort to other methods," he replied, and gestured towards me with his hand, casually slamming me against the wall and pinning me there. _Bloody telekinesis._ I was even more annoyed about the fact that I couldn't do anything about it.

"You won't remember who you are." Arthur took a step forward.

"I can't risk you going back to Angela. She'll get suspicious." Another step.

There was a slight brush against my mental barriers, which increased in intensity until it was slightly more useful than a kitten attempting to push over a concrete wall.

He frowned at the resistance. "She trained you well." Another step.

Arthur reached out with one hand to my temples to make physical contact. _The better to wipe your memories with, my dear… _

His fingers touched.

"Who's Angela?"

* * *

The pressure increased with the contact, not enough to breach the boundaries, but getting close. I put up with this for a few seconds, before getting angry at the fact that he still refused to back off. _If he gets through, he's going to die. Remember what happened to Donna?_

I opened the mental door, and quickly slammed a door in his mind shut, temporarily paralysing Arthur. _(Actually, that's the worst description of the process possible, but it's about the best I can do for it to be comprehensible to anyone who isn't a telepath; cutting off the brain's access to the rest of the body would be more accurate as a description.)_ He stared at me, as the force holding me lifted and I lowered him into a lying position. _'Who sent you?' _came his voice mentally, afraid.

"I sent myself. I'm the Doctor." I looked dispassionately at my handiwork. "You should be able to break it after a while. And your sons are looking for you."

I took the still-unconscious teenager and left.

* * *

Jack stared at the pile of bodies, one of which was bright yellow. "Mickey?", he yelled, reaching down towards a gun holster. A blue spark flickered, then another.

"Yeah, just coming," came the reply from the other side of the Hub.

"You said we just had a Rift spike nearby?" Jack pulled out his gun as the magic flow increased, healing their injuries

"Yeah. Quite a big one…" Mickey's voice trailed off as he saw what was on the elevator, now covered in what looked like blue lightning. "What the hell is that?"

"That," replied Jack, "is a very good question. Cover me." He reached out tentatively, just as the magic vanished.

Martha hurried over with Gwen, medkit at the ready in her hand, and lifted Pikachu off. He sparked weakly, causing Martha to drop him in surprise. "There seems to be some kind of electrical effect." She checked Stephen, then Holly, for heartbeats. "And they're all still alive," she noted, with some surprise.

It was about this point that Holly started swearing in Gnommish.

* * *

Arthur stared at the frozen universe, unable to move. It felt like the time he'd been paralysed by his wife. Betrayed by Angela.

Inside, he screamed, and tried to open the door again, running against it with his shoulder as a point of impact, trying to use telekinesis, trying to freeze it, melt it, turn it into a wisp of radioactive dust. It didn't work. Nothing worked.

He stared at the door, and wondered if this was what Angela was feeling right now, trapped in the prison of herself. Just like him.

The door opened again, and suddenly he could _feel_ again.

Arthur Petrelli got up slowly, reached for his phone, and restarted time. The security guard looked surprised to see him there, then guilty, and was about to offer an explanation when Arthur waved his hand for silence.

"Flint? We have a problem. Escapees. I don't know how many, but they _are_ dangerous, so be careful. Yes. Although I would prefer to retrieve them alive."

* * *

Halfway down the staircase, the universe started moving again. I retched, but kept going. Probably someone would notice that the cameras were not functioning pretty soon now. I sped up, and reached the floor with all the cells.

The doors had opened. Most of them were empty, but there were three that were currently occupied. I fished out a lockpick, and entered the first cell to see a black man attempting to break the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He looked up at me. "Are you breaking out of here?" he asked, proffering them to me.

"Sort of. There, done."

He ran past me, and sprinted off down the corridor to the exit as I put down the still-unconscious boy, who didn't seem quite so light any more after so long.

The second cell contained a dark-haired woman with her hands in melted vacuum cuffs. I raised an eyebrow. "Need any help?"

"I'll be outta here before you are," she drawled, separating the halves and immolating her hands, causing the cuffs to melt further. I backed out at the stench of plastic, and decided to help the girl in the last cell.

She seemed rather calm, considering the circumstances. "Are you my daddy?" she asked, as I fiddled with the keyholes.

"Shouldn't think so," I said absentmindedly, as the catch opened with a quiet click and I set to work on the other pair. "What's your name?"

"Rachel. Are you going to take me back to mummy now?"

"Not just yet. We're going to have to do quite a lot of running, though." I smiled a little at the memory of Jenny. "Ready?"

Rachel nodded, and got up off the bed. _They experimented on a ten-year-old?_

I picked up the boy, and we ran for the exit. Unfortunately, this involved running past quite a lot of people, including the secretary I'd met on my way in. I didn't bother stopping to listen to what the people were shouting. It probably wasn't relevant, something like "Stop!" or "What the hell are you doing?"

I crashed through the doors just as a car pulled up and a couple of blonde girls got out. "Rachel, get in the car. Now." Rachel nodded at me and ran towards the car, sliding into the back seat.

The younger looking one began, "Hey, what the hell are you – " just before I dumped the boy into her arms.

"Seriously, load up the car and get back in. They're not doing anything good in there, and trust me, I've seen it," I said, cutting in. "How fast does that go?"

She looked confused. "Uh, pretty fast," she replied. "Why?"

The other girl – woman, really – looked furious at this. "Claire, I flew on a damn plane that almost crashed just to get here, for a cure, and we're turning back just because some _guy_ turns up and tells us to stay away?!!"

It was at this point that the window shattered and Peter landed on my back from a window above.

An alarm went off in the building. I wasn't particularly concerned with which floor it was at the time, other than the fact that it hurt quite a lot. There would be some broken bones, of course, but nothing to worry about; that could be sorted out later.

"Peter?!! What the hell happened?"

The weight lifted, and I got up with some difficulty. The blonde woman helped me over to the car, and slid me onto the front seat. I grinned at her, then winced. "Need any more convincing?"

"Elle, we've got to get them to a hospital or something. Elle?" said Claire, then her jaw dropped. "You're seriously still thinking about going in there?"

"Claire, you don't know what it's like. You can't feel pain; I haven't been able to have a shower for god knows how long and I shock myself on contact with water. I'm losing control, I almost crashed the plane, for god's sake!" Elle cried, hysterical. "I can't live with it any more. I'm sorry, but… I have to take this chance." Claire snatched at Elle's sleeve just as she ran over to the door, disappearing inside.

"Shit."

Claire stared for a moment, then started as she saw someone opening the door from the corridor and running towards the entrance. _Security guard, this won't be good._ She sprinted for the door and slid into the driver's seat, pulled out and floored the accelerator.

I glanced at the speedometer. It was currently pointed at 70 mph.

"Where exactly are we headed?" I asked, weakly, as she slalomed past parked cars and people who were driving too slowly for her opinion (consisting of more or less everyone). A horn beeped loudly as we reached a major road.

"Somewhere as far away from that building as possible," Claire replied, without taking her eyes off the road. Turning round, I saw that everyone in the back was either unconscious or sleeping. This did not really make me feel better.

"Uh… could we slow down a bit, then? I'm rather fond of my stomach contents, thanks." _Even if I _did _bring up most of breakfast/lunch/dinner up in that building. _I winced as my ribs reminded me of the events of five minutes ago.

Claire pulled over in a layby, and opened the boot to reveal a first-aid kit, which she popped open to reveal assorted measly medical items that would be in no way helpful at all to either Peter, the boy in the back or I.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something sharp, preferably a syringe with a needle."

I procured one from my pockets of not-quite-infinity and passed it to her. She cast me a disbelieving glance. "How big exactly are your pockets?"

"Pretty big. Look, wouldn't it be better to get him to a hospital or – "

Claire stabbed herself with the needle, and drew out some blood. "He should be healing by now. Something's gone wrong," she said dreamily, removing the needle from her arm.

"No_no_no_no_no_no_no! What are you doing?!" I tried to snatch it away from her, but she stepped backwards and I tripped over. As I got up, I could see that Claire was injecting her blood into Peter. "Are you even the same blood type?"

She didn't reply, but the cuts and bruises were already fading. Peter groaned as Claire drew more blood out of herself. _Cellular regeneration?_

She grabbed my hand, and stuck the needle in as I tried to push her away. "Seriously, that's a _really_ bad idea. I'm fine, I've got nanogenes – " I babbled, just as she pushed the plunger down.

There was a slightly disgusting sound as my ribs reformed. I poked them gingerly just to make sure. "You know," I said hesitantly, "I was half expecting something worse to happen."

In hindsight, I should probably have remembered about Sod's Law at that point.

* * *

If anyone spots any OOC sections, bad grammar, spelling or whatever, please tell me about it! Even if you don't, review anyways and tell me what you think of the fanfiction so far. Good? Bad? Indifferent? Let me know, and I'll be inspired to type faster! (Possibly.)

Leverage for typing faster now includes persuading anyone on my Story Alerts list to publish, sending me peanut mochi if you know where I live, reviewing if you don't, and coming up with a really brilliant fanfiction.


	11. Chapter 11

Logon is _finally_ working again! So the next chapter is up. It's a bit short, tbh. I'm trying to get ahead of the publishing game by writing everything in advance. It isn't working very well, though... Oh well.

Read, review, enjoy!

* * *

Arthur flicked through the files in a large cabinet, and selected a blank one, filling it in with a blue ink pen.

NAME: Doctor/John Smith (suspected alias, real name unknown)

AGE: Unknown

DESCRIPTION: Brown hair, eyes, about 5"7'

ABILITY: Unknown as undeveloped (see notes below)

LEVEL: Unknown as undeveloped (see notes below). TREAT AS OMEGA CLASS.

NOTES: UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE ATTEMPT TO BRING IN ALONE. Telepath/time travel but not in similar ways to specials??? Large genetic discrepancies to normal with added bases (see medical notes for further details).

STATUS: Extant. Believed to be free agent.

HISTORY: Test subject number 36 from recombination experiment. One of two people to survive the process. Other history unknown – turned up at Pinehearst as fake journalist.

When this was done, he inserted it in the second drawer down, and went to talk to Gabriel, who was waiting patiently for him in the corridor.

* * *

At first, it all seemed fine. Peter groaned and got up off the seat, and Claire was just about to throw the used syringe away, until the man collapsed on the ground.

"John?" Peter asked, as Claire caught him. "What happened?"

"I just gave him some of my blood. He was pretty badly beaten up after you landed on him, but… maybe he reacted badly or something." Claire thought for a second. "Wait, you're a nurse! Can't you do something?"

Peter shook his head. "I can't do much without proper equipment. We need to get to a hospital, maybe they'd be able to help there."

"Any hospitals nearby that you know about?"

Peter nodded, and strapped John Smith into the back seat, who moaned something about bananas. "Princeton-Plainsboro. It's a teaching hospital I went to once, but they do have good doctors."

John's eyes flicked open as Peter said the word "hospital". "No, not the hospital. Seriously! I'll be fine. Fine! See?" He raised his arm and waved at Claire, but then slumped again. "Ow, that really did hurt. What's in your blood anyway? Must be allergic… not the DNA, maybe different types of antigens on the red blood cells?" Then silence. Claire looked back at John in concern, only slightly relieved to see he was still breathing, his chest rising and falling slightly.

"How long is it going to be until we get to the hospital?"

"About an hour, tops," Peter replied, focusing on the road.

* * *

Holly picked herself up, and froze, probably due to the fact that there were several gun muzzles pointed at her head. She decided to adopt the universal look-I-don't-have-a-big-sharp-weapon posture, holding her hands up to show they were empty.

"Open," Holly said, enunciating clearly, and her helmet visor slid up.

Jack stared at her. "Are you a really short Vulcan or something?" he asked.

Holly rolled her eyes. _What is it with males and their stupid science fiction references anyway?_ "No. I am not a Vulcan."

"You speak English."

"Wow, really? Who has an underground lair with a hole in the pavement leading down to it?" Holly replied, using the maximum amount of sarcasm.

Gwen coughed loudly at this point, causing Jack to glare at her for a second. "Well… we do."

"And it never occurred to you that someone could fall down it." Jack reddened.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Looking for a friend. Artemis. I don't suppose you'd have seen him? Mismatched eyes, black hair, teenage genius. He stands out."

"Nope. But there _are_ a lot of teenagers around." He gave a slightly bewildered look to Martha, who shrugged. "Okay, let's go through the list. Are you planning to go on a murdering rampage on your visit to fair Cardiff?"

"What? No!"

"Are you free tonight?" Jack asked, winking at Holly and giving her a dazzling smile. Gwen coughed something that sounded remarkably like "Ianto!"

_I'm fed up of this Mud Man flirting. _Holly decided enough was enough. "_You know, I think none of this is really necessary. You should just let us go. I'm sure you have more important things to do," _she suggested, using the _mesmer_.

"Sure," said Mickey, sounding slightly drunk. He and Martha walked off to the computers at the centre of the Hub. However, Jack and Gwen still stood there, although Gwen was lowering her gun.

"_Nothing happened. So you're just going to turn round and get back to work." _Holly added another layer. Gwen nodded as if in a dream, and left Jack standing in front of Holly, as if frozen. _Curious. He must be resisting it. He's stronger than I expected him to be._ The gun was lowering now.

"_We're going to leave now. And you really should get that hole in the roof fixed." _Holly edged back towards Simon and Pikachu, who were now fully awake, and mouthed to Simon, _In a couple of seconds, get us out of here._

Suddenly, a door opened to reveal Ianto bearing coffee and doughnuts. "Jack, I think we really should…" He stopped dead. "Jack?"

_D'Arvit!_ The spell broke, and Jack blinked, then realised what happened, and lunged to grab Holly as Ianto sprinted towards them. A gunshot rang out.

"GO!" screamed Holly.

* * *

_So there you have it. House fans, don't worry! Princeton-Plainsboro turns up in the next chapter. __And I'm not forgetting the rest of the characters from Heroes, they'll show up later._

_Please review!_


	12. Curious Case of the Doctor in Daytime

House and Wilson finally enter the fanfiction. So don't worry, be happy!

BTW, the House and Heroes universes have probably never been crossed before, but House would probably make fun of Peter's hair when he was a student nurse. Hence House's nickname for him. If you can't see why, I'm going to cry quietly in a corner somewhere.

* * *

House was, currently, rather bored. There were no patients with particularly interesting backgrounds, evasive diseases, rare diseases, critical conditions or strange diagnoses for him to treat, other than the apparently endless stream of people he looked at in clinic hours. And about 50% of _them_ were terminally stupid.

_Like this one, _thought House, looking at the man in front of him.

"Yeah, so anyway, I've got multiple organ failure, can you do anything?" asked said man hopefully.

House stared. "You've got multiple organ failure?"

The patient nodded. _Hypochondriac, reads waaay too many internet forums on self diagnosis, gullible._

"Okay, what symptoms do you have, Mr. Diagnostitian?" he tried.

"Stomach pains."

"And were you eating excessively last night?"

The gullible self-diagnosing hypochondriac patient brightened up. "Wow! Are you psychic?"

"No, but your incredibly fatal multiple organ failure is curable. Remedy: go to a pharmacist and buy some Rennie for your multiple organ failure. And stop visiting online medical forums."

The gullible self-diagnosing hypochondriac patient looked disappointed. "What, that's _it? _You don't need to keep me in for tests or something?"

"Nope." House shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair, as the door opened and closed, giving him a few minutes of peace.

The door opened again. _Or not._ House looked up to see Wilson, who looked mildly surprised to see him there. "What?"

"Oh… I was half expecting you to be hiding from Cuddy and trying to get out of clinic hours. Again," replied Wilson.

"So… let me guess, there's a mysterious patient who turned up under highly suspicious circumstances with an obscure medical condition?" House asked, getting up and following Wilson, who glanced at him for a second. "Well?"

"A former student turned up with an unconscious man. Said he collapsed in the middle of the street, so he brought him to the nearest hospital."

House shrugged, limping along behind Wilson. "Close enough. Which student?"

"Peter Petrelli. His brother ran for congress, I believe."

"Ah, good." _Fringey returns, then. _"I still voted for the other guy, though."

Wilson stopped to slide open a glass door, as Peter stood up from a chair at the patient's bedside, his face unreadable as he saw House. "You're still here, then."

"No, you're just hallucinating," growled House. _This hospital would probably collapse if I left. _"Who is Patient X, then?"

Peter glanced at Wilson, who shrugged. "His name is John Smith, and he collapsed in the middle of the street. Seems to have had an allergic reaction to something or other, so I took him to the nearest hospital. Which was this one."

House wagged a finger. "So you _do_ know him, then?"

"I only just met him, actually. In a Starbucks," Peter replied.

"You still suck at lying. What actually happened?"

Peter sighed. "I just told you what happened."

"In that case, allow me to talk to the patient." House limped over to the bedside and poked the man, who jerked awake. He jumped when he saw House, who shouted, "YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION AGENCY NAME SUCKS!"

"House, if you're going to rant at the patient, could you at least wait until later?" said Wilson, glaring at House.

House subsided. "Fine. Fringey, go shoo."

Peter looked indignant. "What? But I'm a qualified nurse, you can't just – "

"Yes, but you're not getting paid for this. I am." Peter thought about this for a second, then wrote something down on a piece of paper.

"If anything happens, that's the address of the apartment I'll be at, and my phone number," Peter said, as he left.

"Right. Where are Chase, Cameron and Foreman anyway?" asked House, feeling something was missing.

"Foreman's sick, and I haven't seen Chase or Cameron today," replied Wilson.

"Right. So in Wilson-speak, that means Foreman has a cold, and Chase and Cameron are having sex in a supplies cupboard somewhere." There was a snort, and House turned around to see Mr. John Smith attempting to suppress his laughter.

"Anyway, Fringey said your name was John Smith," House said, watching the patient's face to gauge his reaction.

"That's because my name _is_ John Smith." Strangely enough, his facial expression seemed to show that it was, in fact, the truth. _Either that or a really well-practised lie. _"Why am I in a hospital? I _told_ him I was fine… Seriously," he added, noting the utter disbelief on Wilson's face, "I'm fine. I really don't need to be here, taking up your time, so if you just let me – " He attempted to get out of the bed. Wilson darted over to grab him just as his legs folded up, and re-deposited the patient on the bed. _Why's he so desperate to get out of here, anyway? Is he an illegal immigrant or something? _"Well… If I'm going to be here for a while, I could at least do with breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Or whatever meal is appropriate for this time of the day. What time is it, anyway?"

Wilson checked his watch. "About 12:30. We're going to need to ask you some questions first, though. This man who dropped you off, Peter, he said you collapsed in the middle of the street – "

"Road," interrupted John.

" – and he thought you might have had an allergic reaction to something – "

"Bodily fluids."

Wilson stared. "I'm sorry?" House tried his best not to snigger.

"Exchange of bodily fluids," replied the patient with a straight face.

"You mean – "

"Blood." _And there was me thinking dirty thoughts._

Wilson sighed in relief, then frowned. "And why exactly would someone have given blood to you?"

John shrugged. "I cut myself, and there was a girl. Said I should have a blood transfer, so she…" He shuddered. "She tried to give me some of her blood."

House watched carefully. The facial expressions of the patient and slight twitches of the muscles suggested that the patient was lying – _obviously _– about the girl, but he suspected that there was a hint of truth about a blood transfer. _But why?_

Wilson looked highly sceptical at this explanation. "Well, if someone gave you a blood transfer of the wrong type, it's important that we get rid of all the blood with the antigens that – "

House, anticipating what came next, stuck out his cane as "John Smith" – _secret CIA agent injured in the course of duty?_ _Maybe –_ leaped out of the bed and sprinted for the door with the fastest speed of any living creature known to mankind.

"Ouch," came the muffled voice from the floor. _I rest my case._

Wilson stared at House, who shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? If you're a secret CIA agent, you probably have to take special training. Maybe he's allergic to needles." House tapped the recumbent patient with his cane. "So what blood type are you, Mr. Super Secret CIA Agent Smith?"

"…need bananas…"

_Oops. He may have been concussed. _Wilson was still gaping at House, who looked up. "What? You've never dealt with CIA agents before?"

"…" Wilson shook his head in shock, and picked up the patient, pulling him back over to the bed again.

"Well, we'd better get a few pouches of O negative blood if his system needs clearing out, then." _Well, at least he's more interesting than Coma Guy._

"Wait, how come suddenly he's _your_ patient? Cuddy asks me to help out, and suddenly you take over!" Wilson complained.

House limped over to the door. "Because frankly, I'd rather deal with an interesting patient than have a day's worth of clinic hours. I'll sort out the blood, you go find Chase and Cameron. They should be helping to deal with him," he grumbled, leaving Wilson alone in the room with the patient.

Wilson put his head in his hands. "Why me…"

* * *

Arthur frowned, fingering the file that had been occupying his mind a lot recently, as well as a pencil sketch of a man in a hospital sickbed. He picked up the phone in his office, and tapped in a number, then held it to his ear. There was a single buzz, then the person on the other end picked up.

"_Daphne. I have a task for you."_

_What? Again? But I – _Daphne remembered to curb her thoughts, blanking her mind before Matt could hear. "What kind of task?" she asked suspiciously.

"_I want you to find someone for me. A man. John Smith. He'll be in a hospital somewhere around here."_

"I need more description than that."

"_I have a picture. It's important that you find him. Take Knox and Flint with you, and be careful."_

Daphne hesitated. Knox and Flint were heavy-handed when it came to using force, and she didn't like them much. But then…

"_You don't want me to leave you where we found you, do you?"_

Daphne sighed. When he put it that way, there really wasn't much choice. This, or be arrested for the multiple thefts she'd committed. _Although there could be worse things, admittedly. _She shuddered.

"Daphne?" Matt called from the kitchen. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine," she called. Lowering her voice, she replied, "I'll do it, then. How soon do you want me to look for him?"

"_As soon as you've picked up Knox and Flint. Be careful with him, and bring John in alive, preferably." _The line cut out.

Daphne stared at the phone as Matt walked in. "Problems?" he asked, catching her eye. _Oh yeah._

"Yes," she replied, looking at him directly. "But nothing I can't deal with."

_I hope, _she added silently.

* * *

So yeah... chapter 12 is now up. You probably noticed, seeing how you just read it (unless you just scroll to the bottom to see what I have to say this week, lol). Please do press the big green button. :D


	13. The Curious Case, Continued

_One week late, but I'm starting to write again! Writer's block is now over (sort of), and I'm writing a bit faster again. I didn't get any reviews last chapter... *cries*_

_Publishing every Friday (I hope!). If you want it faster, please poke my muses, send me brain food (not actual brains, though, even Sylar doesn't eat them) or press the green button._

_You know you want to. ^_^_

* * *

Wilson stared at the patient, who had just been rigged up with a packet of blood on a drip stand and should, technically, be unconscious after the amount of sedative he'd had. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be working very well, since the patient was currently waking up again, only five minutes after the injection. _Either that or the syringe was full of water or something. _Instead of being asleep, Mr. John Smith was now very wide awake, and –

Wilson ran over to the patient's bed, attempting to prevent John from ripping out the IV as he slid his legs out from under the sheet. "What are you doing?!! You're not discharged from hospital yet, and – " The man stumbled out of the bed, as Wilson caught him, and attempted to haul him back into the bed, supporting the patient under the arms. "HOUSE!" he yelled, hoping by some kind of miracle that _some_one would turn up to help. As his grip slipped, he felt something under the palm of his left hand.

_What?!! But that's the wrong place, it should be – _Wilson stared in shock at the patient, who made little 'don't tell anyone' motions desperately. Frantically, he lifted the patient back onto the bed, and fumbled for an old-fashioned stethoscope, holding it to the patient's chest. _There. _One heartbeat, in the regular place, and then, moving the stethoscope up and to the right a little, a second one.

The door slid open to admit House, who stared at the scene. "What are you doing with that?" he asked, with customary bluntness.

"Guess." Wilson started bundling it away.

"Okay, I'll be more accurate. _Why_ were you listening to the patient's heartbeat?"

Wilson hesitated. "He tried to escape again."

"See, that proves it. He's a secret agent, or he has something _really _big to hide."

Wilson considered the possibilities of having House persistently trying to find out what he was hiding, and decided it wasn't worth the effort. He glanced at the patient, who was now limp on the bed, and checked the vitals; everything seemed to be fine. _That's a point. Why doesn't it show up on the monitor?_

House narrowed his eyes. "You know something, don't you?"

Wilson looked back, his expression _(hopefully)_ inscrutable, and shrugged.

House smirked. "That means 'Yes'. Tell me. You know I'll get it out of you."

Wilson glared. "Have you ever heard of a condition involving two hearts?"

"Nope." Wilson saw it click into place in his friend's brain. "But if that's the case, how come there's only one heartbeat on the monitor?"

Wilson tossed over the stethoscope. "Listen."

House inserted the ends into his ears, and placed it over the traditional position. "A heartbeat. And?"

_Did I imagine it? _Wilson adjusted the stethoscope, shifting it away from its original position, and waited. House looked up at him, surprised, and shifted the end back and forth again.

"You can hear it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. But…" House frowned. "A double circulatory system?"

"Quadruple, actually, if they both have four sectioned chambers each." Wilson was starting to feel light-headed.

House stared at the patient. "And there aren't any records of anyone under the name of John Smith. Plus, he turns up under mysterious circumstances. Did you know there was a theory that Fringey got abducted by aliens straight after his brother won the election, by the way?"

"You're actually suggesting that the patient isn't human?"

"And you have a better suggestion?"

_Shit. _"In that case, we've been pumping blood into him that his immune system will probably recognise as foreign." _That's why he tried to take it out. _Wilson ran over to the patient, and pulled out the tube. "And God knows what the sedative did to his system. We could have been killing him by mistake."

"Well, what would you suggest, Socrates?" House replied sarcastically.

Wilson opened his mouth to reply, just as the monitor started beeping frantically, causing to change the eloquent response on his lips into a somewhat-less-elegant "Bugger". The line on the monitor was erratic now, and was replaced by a single flat line and a drone. _His heart – hearts? – are giving up. CPR, he needs CPR… _

He placed his lips to the patients', and exhaled, then pressed his hands to the chest, alternating between each heart as House grabbed the paddles to restart them. He swore as his bad leg collapsing underneath him. They proved unnecessary, however, as Wilson felt the heartbeat start again.

John's eyes flickered open in shock at the sensation, and tried to push Wilson away from him weakly. "Stop it! Get away from me, it's kicking in…" He shuddered. _What the hell is he talking about? _

Suddenly, the room was flooded with brilliant golden light, searing Wilson's eyes, embracing him, caressing his body in warmth. Everything faded away to the light, leaving nothing behind, like an all-consuming fire.

_Oh well, _thought Wilson dreamily. _There have to be worse ways to die than this._

* * *

House had to shield his eyes from the light, Wilson a dark silhouette against the blaze, which seemed to focus itself on the darkness, consuming it until it was indistinguishable from the source. Tendrils reached out to House as he tried to shuffle backwards, and one brushed his leg with a tingling sensation. Then suddenly, the light died out, leaving coloured after-images imprinted on his vision. He blinked, his vision clearing to reveal the two figures now slumped on the hospital bed.

* * *

_Thank you for reading, help me to write,  
So I can get more words to your sight._

_Yeah... the poem sucks. Never mind. I sucked at GCSE English anyway. :P_


	14. The Third Bathroom

[Message Begin]

Is this thing working? Excellent!

Your author is being held hostage for the next two weeks (also known as "Easter Holidays") by I, the Master. I refuse to let her go until she actually revises and puts some work in on Physics, Mechanics, Statistics, Chemistry, Biology, Mathematics and Further Mathematics. Mwahaha!

As a result of this, there will be no updates until the 24th of April, the Friday of the week that she recommences her studies.

Until then... you're going to have to _wait._ Like I'm waiting for the perfect opportunity to take over the world again... mwahahaha...

_Master_

_*kzschht*_

[Message End]

* * *

Holly tried to warn Stephen just as the hands closed around her ankle and the vortex opened, sucking them into the darkness again. The journey was more violent this time, akin to being sucked down a giant whirlpool, unable to see, feel or hear what was going on other than the motion.

She vaguely wondered why, if all senses were deprived, she still felt the sensation of moving. _Best to leave that to Artemis, _thought Holly.

Suddenly, there seemed to be a shift in the movement, and a sensation of being simultaneously stretched and squeezed, as Holly was unceremoniously spat out into the world again. The small group tumbled onto a cold tiled floor that looked rather like someone's bathroom, with white marble walls and what appeared to be a rather strange-looking oversized Jacuzzi, amongst other things that were less familiar to her.

Holly attempted to kick Jack off her ankle weakly, but failed miserably due to a sudden bout of nausea, coughing, retching and then vomiting the remains of partially-digested nettle smoothie onto the tiles. _Nice._

"Pikaa…" (trans: 'Ugh.')

Suddenly, there was a loud series of clanging noises, as a metal door slammed down into place in front of a wooden one. An alarm started to sound as Jack attempted to get up, fumbling for the dropped gun on the floor. However, Stephen lunged for the gun, grabbing it just before Jack's hand closed around his hand. He attempted to pull his hand free, just as the floor shuddered and tilted sharply, causing Jack to slide across Stephen and slam into an ornamental fish statuette, hard. There was a nasty crunching sound, as a red patch bloomed on the white stone.

"D'Arvit!" Holly swore, and attempted to get up, just as the room shook again and she slipped, catching herself on a towel rail before she smashed into the wall, Pikachu scrabbling on the grey tiling for grip. Stephen stared at Jack in shock, pressed against the wall by the weight. Then suddenly, there was a jolt again, and the room stilled again, upright. _D'Arvit. D'Arvit. D'Arvit. Who has ornamental fish statues and a bathroom that shakes anyway?_

Holly crouched over Jack, and put her hand on his skin, hoping there was still a spark of life left in there. _Heal. Please. _Holly prayed she had enough magic left, as the blue sparks flickered and sank into the mess of bone and flesh, knitting the pieces back together as the skull sealed back with a hiss, the skin closing over it seamlessly as Holly's magic finally ran out. She gasped, releasing her grip on him.

Jack didn't move. _Too late… It's too late… _Holly stared at the dead body. It was flawless, complete, repaired. Apart from the missing piece that made it... human. Alive.

"Holly?" Stephen knelt down next to her, and took Jack's wrist, as Pikachu came forward to lean on Holly.

It was limp. Lifeless. No pulse. Holly could tell that just by looking. She felt numb; despite her eighty-plus years, it was still only the second time she'd seen someone die in front of her, unable to do anything. Her eyes started to prickle as Holly fought the urge to yell, punch the wall, do _something_ other than squat here in an unfamiliar person's bathroom, crying over a dead man she'd just met.

"Holly… he's dead. I'm sorry…" Stephen's voice shook, just a little.

Suddenly, the ex-corpse gasped back to life, causing Stephen to jump back, swearing loudly. Holly tripped over Pikachu trying to scramble backwards, as Jack gulped air back into his lungs. _What the hell?_

"Ah, that wasn't so bad. Better than the barroom fight. God, that was bad, there was glass everywhere…" Jack saw the expressions on the faces surrounding him. "Ah. Yeah, it's usually like this the first time you see it." He turned around, then spotted the ornamental fish and Jacuzzi, staring at it.

"Hey, how did you get in the third bathroom?"

"Third bathroom?" Stephen asked weakly.

Jack stared at Stephen. "Gun, please. You could really hurt someone with that, the safety's not even on." He took it back, put the safety on, then replaced it in the holster. "How did we end up in the third bathroom of the TARDIS?"

Holly stared. "You know this place?"

"You don't?"

"Well, no. I wasn't the one who brought us here."

"Pika, chu pichu!" (trans: 'Hey, don't look at me here!') said Pikachu, pointing at Stephen.

Holly now looked utterly confused. "What's a TARDIS?"

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space, apparently. Any chance of a lift back to Torchwood? Or a date?" Jack asked hopefully.

Holly slapped him. "TARDIS. You were saying?"

Jack rubbed his cheek. "That's going to leave a mark," he pouted.

"You were dead 2 minutes ago!" Holly yelled, hysterical, trying to calm down.

_This is a day with Artemis Fowl with it, what the hell did you expect? _her semi-sarcastic side pointed out.

_Shut up,_ she replied eloquently.

_Bite me._

"Er… yeah. Could you keep that quiet?" He looked uncomfortable for a second. "I don't stay dead."

"…"

"…"

"…" (trans: '…')

"…I figured."

Suddenly, there was a strange noise, rising and falling like a wheezy bellows, as the room shuddered. This time, everyone managed to get a grip on something in time as the room tilted again, then returned to normal. Reluctantly, the metal door slid up, as footsteps echoed from somewhere else in the – _what? Building? Shuttle?_ – along with voices. Jack's face lit up.

"He's back…"

"Who?"

Jack turned towards Holly, grinning. "The Doctor."

* * *

[Message Begin]

I'll be back with a longer update after the Master lets me go again! Don't worry, he just doesn't like Master/Doctor slash, mainly because it's like... I mean...

...

...never mind. Although I'm not personally fussed, and take any pairings. It's all good, Otouto-san!

_Kyrial_

[Message End]

* * *

[Message Begin]

The author would like me to tell you that she does not in fact have a little brother.

Also that Master/Doctor slash is -

Get off my keyboard!

_Master_

[Message End]


	15. And Cut To

Update is up a day early, and holidays sucked due to stupid amounts of exam papers. But I hit 20 reviews this week! *celebrates*

I still don't own anything other than this story and its OCs.

* * *

I was currently being poked by something long and potentially wooden.

"Wake up, Wilson." _Wilson?_

At this point I became aware of several things:

1. I'd regenerated. In public. In a hospital.

2. There was somebody else in the room.

3. There was something heavy on my legs right now.

4. I was also feeling inexplicably happy.

"Wilson?"He sounded worried now.

In an attempt to get it off, I shifted my legs. It didn't budge. I opened my eyes to see a young man – Dr Wilson – currently slumped on my legs, and an older, more grizzled-looking man currently poking me with a walking stick. He glared at me when he saw I was awake, and the end of the walking stick moved up to my voicebox, resting there in a manner that suggested a whole lot of pain and a later inability to speak if I made any wrong moves.

"What did you do to Wilson?" he growled.

"Uh…" I stopped. My voice was a lot higher than I'd expected it to be. "Damn. Soprano? Who sings soprano?" I looked in the glass to see my new reflection.

Rose Tyler stared back at me.

Weeell… Sort of.

"Oh, untranslatable word." I stared down at my current body, then quickly looked up again. _It's just fat. Attached to my front. Which is going to be really awkward while running. _"I feel like a _perv_."

"Hey, stop moaning. Most guys would be glad to have boobs." He paused for a second, then glared at me, and smacked me with the stick. "Wilson. Now."

"He's unconscious."

I received another smack across the shins. "That's obvious. What's the cause?"

"I regenerated… the release of energy and Huon particles… He was trying to resuscitate me when it happened. He'd have absorbed a lot of it." I noticed that his skin was faintly shimmering a pale gold. "Actually, make that most of it." I wiped a finger against his skin, the residue sticking to my fingertip, and licked it. _Spicy. Definitely energy residue… Maybe I should keep some to make cookies._

House looked unimpressed. "So what does that mean?"

I looked up. "He absorbed the energy. It's the first time anything like this has ever happened. The consequences…" I trailed off.

_But you already know what's happened, don't you?_

"He'll be all right?"

"He'll live."

"That's not an answer, which means… you're not telling me something."

"Are you a psychiatrist?"

"No, I'm a diagnostician, and you just confirmed my theory." Another whack across the shins. _That is really starting to hurt. _"Spill. Now."

"He'll be fine when he wakes up." House looked sceptical. "He's waking up already, as a matter of fact." _That's true, at least._

"No he isn't. Wilson _never_ wakes up quietly."

Wilson groaned, and rolled off my legs onto the floor.

I shrugged. "If you say so."

"Ow." There was silence for a few seconds, then, "Everything's spinning…" Wilson looked blearily up at House. "How much did I drink last night?"

"Ah… I can explain," I said nervously, as the walking stick moved again.

"You'd better."

I took a breath, and prepared myself for an incipient inability to speak until I next regenerated. "I said that the regeneration process gives off a lot of energy, right?"

"What?" _Oh yeah…_

"…there are some fairly minor side effects."

"How minor…" asked Wilson, carefully.

"As in a change in your genetic code."

Wilson stared. "That's _minor?_"

House looked fascinated at this point. "So Wilson's actually male now?"

"House?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Uh… your genetic code has been more or less rewritten from scratch. Apart from original characteristics and so on. They should stay, at least for now. The changes aren't anything to do with gender." _Lucky sod. _I took a deep breath. _I really, really, __**really**__ don't want to have to say this._

"It changed your species entirely. To mine. Time Lord." _I'm sorry…_

* * *

Please review! Yeah... not sure whether you predicted this or not. Tell me what you think! Don't worry, it's not permanent. Although I'm going to have problems deciding whether to use male or female pronouns for the Doctor in future.

Fuafafafafafa...


	16. Two Trios

_Kyrial: Chapter_ _16 is up, and season 4 of Heroes is over... _T_T_ I call personal dibs on Tim Kring if he doesn't bring back Daphne... Tracy can do whatever, although I think *mff mfff* should *mmmffff!*... Syathan is interesting, though... Like to see how that turns out... yes..._

_Kyrial: Without further delay, the world is turning and you're waiting! Heroes..._

The Master: Whatever. Just don't make me have to censor you any more. *ahem* Until my plans for world domination are successful, I don't own Artemis Fowl, the Doctor, Heroes, or House, and neither does Kyrial.

* * *

"It changed your species entirely. To mine. Time Lord." _I'm sorry…_

"Reverse it. _Now._" House's voice was low and angry.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I can't. Not here, anyway." _With the Chameleon Arch... I might be able to modify it sufficiently, but…_

"Then do it elsewhere. Something. _Anything. _Just… fix it, okay?" His voice was starting to shake a little.

"House. Calm down." Wilson looked pale, but better than I expected comsidering what had just happened.

"…I can do that, but Wilson's going to have to come with me."

"Right." House stood up. "What're we waiting for then?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

"Uh…" I motioned at my chest. "I don't suppose you'd know where to get some underwear from?"

"Sure," said House, just as Wilson replied, "Yes." They glanced at each other, then House sighed melodramatically, and left the room. I watched his progress through the door absentmindedly. _Huh… Unexpected._

Wilson watched me closely. "What _actually_ happened to get you in here?" he asked suspiciously.

I looked at him again, this time paying more attention. "I had a blood infusion."

"So you weren't lying when you said that earlier." He sounded surprised.

"I don't lie, in general. Well… not unless there are exceptional circumstances. I just… omit the important parts of the truth." I winced at the phrase.

A hint of a smile pulled at Wilson's lips, as the door opened again. House entered with a bunch of plastic bags, which were thrown onto my hospital bed, causing the contents to strew over my lap.

I stared at them. _…Okay…_

"Don't worry, they're all clean. Except for that one," he added, removing something black and skimpy-looking.

"…I probably don't want to know the answer to this question, but where exactly did you get all this from?"

House opened his mouth as Wilson cut in. "He keeps them in his office drawer."

"Fine." I sighed, and indicated the suit. "Pass that to me, please, then draw the curtains around the bed."

Wilson looked quizzically at me, but picked up the suit and passed it over. House made his way over to the curtain, pausing before he drew it. "Are you sure you don't want any help putting that on?" he asked, smirking.

"_House._" Wilson glared at him.

"No, no, it's fine. If I have any problems, I'll let you know," I said seriously, with the straightest face I could manage.

"Fine," House grumbled, looking disappointed. "If you say so…" He disappeared behind the swathe of blue cloth as I pulled off the standard hospital gown, as well as my boxers. At this point, I spotted the immediate problem. There was a large variety of underwear, but…

"Er… how do the sizes work?"

"Cup size is letters, chest size is numbers," came House's disembodied voice from the other side of the curtain.

"Right. Right. Who invented this?"

"No idea."

I stared at the pile, then decided to just cheat. I pulled out the sonic screwdriver, fishing around for a replacement battery, then slotted it in, keeping the discharged one for recharging later. _Setting number 56, I believe. Female… Undergarments… Right._

I switched it on, and pointed it at myself. There were a few seconds of buzzing, before it came back with the results:

**Top Undergarment: 34C**

**Bottom Undergarment: 12**

"Really?" _Huh._

"What?" asked Wilson, from behind the screen.

"Oh... nothing." _Let me see, I installed a little interfacing device in the suit somewhere... There. _I fiddled with the innocuous-looking patch of cloth, then pressed the sonic screwdriver's head to it. The various parts of the suit contracted and expanded in the appropriate places to fit as I pulled out a set of underwear that wasn't _excessively_ lacy. Unfortunately, this also meant it was bright red, and would therefore show through my suit shirt. It took a few tries to get it on.

"Just out of curiosity, what exactly were you doing on this planet anyway if you're not human?" House asked.

"What? Oh…" _Very little, actually. _"I just like Earth. It always fascinates me how much trouble you humans attract." _Just like me. Amazing how similar we are sometimes, isn't it? Ironic considering how similar we _aren't _sometimes. _I slipped on the trousers, then shirt and, finally, the sacred suit jacket, replacing the sonic screwdriver. "Done."

House yanked the curtain aside, and stared. "How did you get that to fit you again?"

"Resizing." I glanced at him. "I wasn't about to walk around in that underwear. _Or_ a hospital gown. I'd get taken to the psychiatric ward."

He looked disappointed. "Shame. You'd probably look good in – " House stopped quickly when he saw the look on Wilson's face. "Hey, you can't blame me for trying."

"Is he always like this?" I asked Wilson.

Wilson grimaced. "Worse. Never go to poker nights with him."

"Right, I'll remember that… Allons-y!"

He blinked. "What?"

House smacked Wilson over the head with the cane. "It means, 'let's go' in Français." He turned to me. "He's a languophobe," he confided.

I stared at Wilson, aghast. "You don't speak French?" _How is that possible?!!_

Wilson looked embarrassed. "I _did_ live in Quebec for a while, but… I wasn't very good at speaking the language."

"Never mind." I sighed. "Let's just go so I can undo this."

"Fine," said House, making for the door.

Wilson looked startled. "You're coming?"

House rolled his eyes. "Obviously. If you get abducted and dumped in France, you need _someone_ to help you. Besides," he added, smirking evilly, "I've always wondered what the inside of a spaceship looked like."

"You didn't believe in aliens until today," Wilson objected.

He shrugged. "Whatever, let's go."

"Just a question first," I said suspiciously. "If you're a doctor, aren't you supposed to _work_ for the whole day?"

House looked at me. "Spending the entire day diagnosing the hypochondriacs, frat-boy university students and people with STDs, or going on a spaceship with an alien?"

_I get the feeling I'm going to regret letting him come._

* * *

Daphne was, currently, rather annoyed. This was not helped by the fact that the passengers in the car she was driving were Flint and Knox. It also wasn't helped by the fact she was forced to _drive_ the stupid machine, or that there was a traffic jam.

"Are we nearly there yet?" Flint complained from the back seat.

_Yep. This is why I hate cars. I mean, jeez, I could run faster than this…_

Unfortunately, she, Flint and Knox were all incognito. Daphne could, admittedly, have just run into the hospital at super-speed, found 'John Smith' and run back to Arthur Petrelli again, but, a hospital being a public place, this would raise an awful lot of questions about where the patient had vanished to. She could also super-speed all the way to the hospital with Knox and Flint and just take it from there, a fact she'd pointed out to Arthur. He'd objected to this as well, saying that it was likely _someone _would notice the trio apparently appearing out of thin air.

So, Daphne was stuck with the metal.

"How much longer?" Flint grumbled.

_And the annoying 4-year-old in the back, _she reminded herself. Thankfully, Knox at least was silent. "Probably a couple of minutes. We're almost there." She pulled over into the car park, and eased the metal hulk into a free parking space. _We have success! See, Dad, my driving test _was_ worth something after all._

"Right, let's get outta here," said Knox, cracking his knuckles, as Daphne and Flint got out of the car.

Daphne assumed an assertive posture and her serious face as she entered the hospital with Knox, Flint trailing slightly behind. She marched up to the receptionist, who was currently talking to a patient. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she grasped the leather wallet tightly. When the patient left, Daphne walked up to the receptionist.

"I need to find someone. A John Smith is in this hospital, I believe, and I and my companions need to talk to him. It's _urgent_," Daphne said, stressing the last word.

The receptionist glanced up at Daphne. "Visiting hours are from 2pm to 5pm. Come back later." She turned her attention back down to the computer screen, as Daphne dropped Matt's badge on her keyboard. The receptionist raised an eyebrow, and looked at it closely.

"We have reason to believe there may be a dangerous criminal in the hospital," Daphne said, quietly. "If you could tell me where to find John Smith, we can solve this quickly and painlessly."

The receptionist swallowed, then tapped the name into the computer. "Room number 6, 4th floor up. The elevator's over there," she said, pointing, then winced. "He's being attended to by Dr. Gregory House, if you want to speak to him."

"Thank you," said Daphne, retrieving the badge and flipping the wallet shut.

* * *

Kyrial: This is getting really long - 25,659 words and counting, not including A/Ns! That's 45 and a bit pages. And it's nowhere near finished. I have no idea about Billie Piper's clothing sizes, I just guesstimated. So sue me if I'm wrong.

The Master: ...she's Billie _Fox_ now.

Kyrial: Yeah, well... I'll never remember.

* * *

_Review and you get cookies!_

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